ecchymosis
by gryffindormischief
Summary: Prompt: "I needed a drink of water after my shower but I forgot that I opened the blinds to my balcony and you just saw me walk into my kitchen naked." Muggle AU
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Prompt from tumblr, I'd entertain the idea of a part 2 if people wanted it...

* * *

Halfway through his second week of training, Harry's just about ready to lie down at the bottom of the stairs and hope some burly neighbor – or one with a hand truck and a do-gooder's temperament – takes pity on him and carries him to his flat. They'd been running drills well past dark due to what was apparently 'appalling performance' on all their parts and it feels like every muscle in his body is made of lead.

Still, he's got enough presence of mind to recognize daydreams of being hauled upstairs and magically delivered to his door are about as likely as him _not_ passing out in the middle of his frozen supper. So he trudges up the stairs, cursing the out of order lifts – couldn't it happen when he was trying to keep fit during the off-season? – and manages to fumble the door open before he drops his bag and keys to the floor in a heap.

It's dark, but he knows the layout well enough that he doesn't reach for a light switch until he's in the hallway to his bedroom and the loo, tossing his sweats off as he goes until he's in just his pants and twisting the shower on and steam fills the room.

Sighing, Harry manages to remember his contacts and take them out before stripping off his boxers and surrendering himself to the beautiful beat of almost too hot water against his aching muscles. Basically on autopilot, he reaches for his favored bar of soap and works his body into a lather before doing the same with his hair, luxuriating in the feel of _finally_ relaxing. He's not _too_ worried about cleanliness, having showered off the worst of the grime back in the locker room. This is mainly about rinsing away the metaphorical dirt of the day, which is a lot deeper than Harry expected to go when he's seriously concerned about falling asleep standing up.

As he reaches up to scrub at his hair more deeply, he winces and scowls down at the his middle – eyes blurry with soap suds and lack of assistance care of his usual visual aids – and finds a blooming bruise on his left side, immediately recalling a particularly memorable encounter with Quincey's knee during practice. He prods it, testing, and shrugs to himself before rinsing the lather from his hair and body and shutting off the tap with a tired sigh.

It's only once he's fully stepped from the shower and blindly reached for the towel rack that he remembers the perfect storm of daily busyness and a distaste for doing laundry regularly like an adult meant he threw his last bath towel in the hamper last night. And he's normally not above fishing through to find what he needs, but training means he's been particularly rank lately _and_ particularly lazy when it comes to anything but football, so he's better off drying off with a dish towel.

So, cautiously, Harry pads out of the bathroom, dripping all the way, and makes his way into the kitchen. He flicks the light on and manages to locate his glasses where he carelessly tossed them before dawn this morning, then picks his way toward the drawer crammed with tea towels and oven mitts. Pulling two towels from the drawer and nudging it closed – only succeeding in shoving it halfway, but he can't really be arsed – Harry drops one to the floor and begins using the other to dry his dripping body. As he does, Harry puts one foot in the center of the other towel and swipes at the trail of water he left across the hardwood, working his way from the kitchen to the hallway, not looking up until he's halfway there. Which may have been a mistake because when he does, it's to find a pair of eyes watching him from across the courtyard.

Glasses already firmly in place, Harry can easily see it's a woman, somewhere around his age, and she's full on gaping at him, though he can't really see whether it's 'I'm calling the super and reporting you for indecent exposure' gaping or 'I already filled my mobile with pictures of your naked body' gaping. A bit late on the reaction, Harry drops his hand until the damp tea towel is draped in front of his – _private_ area.

It's far enough away that Harry can't be sure, but he _thinks_ his lovely neighbor who got an accidental eyeful is blushing a bit. Which, as long as it's not an 'I'm angry and calling to report you' flush he's ok. Once he's had a reasonable amount of sleep, the embarrassment will certainly set in, but he's essentially on autopilot at the moment.

So when his neighbor starts gesturing to his body, it takes him a few moments to even catch on, and then he thinks this is turning into some stalker situation that's going to get him on the nightly news. Until he sees she seems more _concerned_ than anything. Still, she must realize he's not following because she holds up a notepad with big black letters marked across the stark white page. _R U A VIGILANTE?_

Harry doesn't get a chance to really consider what she could mean because she starts scribbling away again and holds up a second note. _U LOOK LIKE A_ – she pauses to flip pages – _HUMAN PUNCHING BAG_

Clumsily, he starts trying to examine his ribs a little closer and almost drops his last grip on modesty and panics a bit. When he looks back up, it almost seems like she's giggling at him, or maybe _with_ him. And it's been a while, if he's honest, since he's had a prolonged interaction with an actual human that wasn't part of some contractual obligation, plus she's super fit and funny, so far.

Keeping his bare backside away from the balcony, Harry pokes around for blank paper, but doesn't turn anything up besides some bright green sticky notes which would involve a lot more effort than he's willing to put in, so he scrambles for his discarded jersey and presses it to the window.

She squints, pressing her nose to the glass and then looks down toward her pad. _FOOTBALLLER?_

Harry nods and she scribbles away again. _DON'T U HAVE PEOPLE?_

It's then that he spots some junk mail strewn across his coffee table and finds the largest piece to scrawl out a large question mark, then presses it to the sliding door.

She points at him and holds up another sheet. _2 TAKE CARE OF THAT_

Whether it's from her easy smiles or his general feeling of punchiness at his lack of sleep over the last fortnight, Harry decides to respond by modeling exaggerated sportsman poses, flexing his lithe muscles.

She throws her head back in laughter and Harry feels something like genuine happiness bloom in his chest as she's writing again. _ICE IT_

He nods and she holds up one last note. _REST. DR ORDERS_

Sending her a salute and a grin, Harry watches until she smiles back, pulling her curtains closed the crack of golden light that still shines from her window dimming after a moment.

Sighing, Harry slumps into his bedroom and fishes out some pants before lounging on the couch with some random comedy playing on Netflix while he eats his frozen dinner and drapes an icepack across his ribs.

It takes some effort, but he does manage to get his dishes into the kitchen and brush his teeth before he collapses across his never-made bed and drifts off to sleep. And if a certain unnamed red head crops up in his dreams, who's going to know.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N:Part 2 as requested. The fact that there will be at least a part 3 after this...well hopefully you still like things enough to keep reading at the end of this one! Just a ball of fluffy muggle AU flirting and teasing :) And a bit of a twist I hope you all enjoy!

Thank you for all the comments, and I hope you'll feel free to post more as this goes along! I like to hear about what you like so I can hopefully continue to make it fun!

* * *

Harry's the last one to stumble from the practice field into the locker room on the last day of training month, covered in grass stains and the mud that formed about thirty minutes before practice ended, meaning everyone is too tired and moody for the usual ribbing. He begins making a haphazard pile of his dirty things, and grabs for his shower kit before striding toward the already steamy area.

Hair a mess of suds and eyes scrunched closed against the invasion, Harry hears his name being called from outside the showers. "Potter, they want you over in medical."

Pushing his hair, and the soap, from his eyes, Harry peers around the corner and finds one of the coach's assistants – Chapman – waiting in the mostly empty room. "I'm alright, health wise – any idea what this is about?"

"You saying you're 'alright' is hardly going to be taken seriously by anyone," Chapman smirks, adjusting his fogged over glasses, but he still surrenders a bit more information, "Seems they want the team captain to meet the new doctor. Going to implement a big health and wellness plan."

After a cursory rinse that gets him mostly clean of shampoo, Harry blindly reaches for a towel, which Chapman eventually tosses toward him, and runs it over his body, leaving it only half damp when he pulls on his sweats and trainers. "Did we really need one? We won last year."

"Did you really think that would get Wood to lay off?" Chapman drawls, "Because if you did, you're stupider than Skeeter says."

Harry lets out a barking laugh, "I'm running for Parliament _and_ trying to woo Camilla away from Prince Charles, in case you haven't heard."

Leading the way down the corridor, Chapman sighs with false distress. "You've really let the fame get to your head, Harry. It's rather disgusting."

"Don't forget, I'm also an arsonist," Harry adds, giving Chapman a light punch to the shoulder. Their chuckles fall silent after a moment and Harry pauses outside the door to medical. "Be honest, how bad is this going to be?"

"Depends what you mean by 'bad' – now get in there," Chapman orders with a mysterious smile as he wrenches the door open and shoves Harry inside, "Have fun."

Harry recovers from his stumble and straightens up to find Wood waiting, all business as usual. "Good, you're here. Our new team doctor _and_ health advisor is here and you're – "

He hesitates for a moment and another voice joins in, light and teasing, "A walking injury magnet?"

"I was going to lead off with team captain," Wood drawls, but waves the newcomer in, "This is Dr. Weasley."

Harry nearly swallows his tongue.

Because, Harry's life has been a relatively normal mix of good and bad luck, but finding out the new team doctor is the attractive neighbor you accidentally flashed and are currently nursing a crush on is a weird amalgam of both. Good, in that he's been trying to figure out a non-stalker way to connect with her in person, and bad in the sense that he's _flashed the new team doctor and kind of flirted with her and maybe had a dream that involved –_

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Potter," she does seem to recognize him, if the smile tickling around her lips is any indication, but she seems less surprised, "I've read a lot about you."

 _Ah, player profiles_.

"Skeeter's not a fan of yours, is she?"

Dr. Weasley is entirely too cheeky for Harry to quash this growing fancy and it's really bad for his health. Which is the opposite of what medical professionals are supposed to do. _Getting her fired isn't a good prelude to 'want to date?' though._

Wood's looking at Harry a bit strangely, and it's then that he realizes the full conversation he's had with himself, while full and vibrant, has not included an audible response. So he's basically stood in one place staring dumbly. At least he didn't drool.

"Er- no, she's not big on Potters in general," Harry manages, smiling a little strangely, which only seems to bring more humor to Dr. Weasley's eyes. And confusion to Wood's, but he doesn't have a chance to probe into the cause for Harry's odd behavior, interrupted as they are by a short knock and Chapman peering around the doorjamb, "Coach Wood, your wife is on the line."

They're treated to a slight crack in Wood's 'all football all the time' façade as a small smile ticks the corner of his mouth and he nods toward the doctor, then Harry, "I trust you two can handle things without me for the mo'?"

And then he's out the door as if someone told him there was a flash sale on the last cleats to ever exist.

Harry stares at the closed door a moment too long and Dr. Weasley clears her throat. "Alright there?"

Whipping his head around, Harry blinks rapidly and clears his throat, "I – yes. Alright," he pauses, "You?"

She hums, "Fine," her eyes skate over his form, "You seem in better shape than the last time I saw you."

"All better," Harry nods, "Your advice was sound," and bites back the urge to ask if she'd be willing to _check_ because that feels wildly inappropriate.

"I'm better when I can do a full physical exam with less than four meters between us," Dr. Weasley answers, and he doesn't miss the little flash of _something_ in her eye, but it passes quickly with the light blush on her cheeks.

"I'm sure we'll have opportunities enough for you to examine me up close before the season's out," Harry answers, realizing by the end exactly how that sounded and the red rises on his cheeks.

Clearing his throat, Harry gestures vaguely. "You er- have a new health plan?"

Dr. Weasley tosses her hair behind one shoulder and her lip quirks, "Yeah, there's a full ten pages on you getting less sprains."

"My ligaments enjoy being pains in the arse," Harry laughs.

"That's the technical term we learn in med school, how'd you know?" Dr. Weasley teases, leading him toward her desk and offering the exam stool while she takes the chair. "I'll just run some basics by you, and we can discuss the practicalities of what I have so far."

Wheeling closer, Harry forces his brain into professional mode and decidedly does _not_ notice the flowery scent of her hair, and leans in to read over Dr. Weasley's shoulder.

* * *

It's some time later when they've finished pouring over her binders and spreadsheets, Harry providing commentary as they go while she makes careful notes in the margins. After Dr. Weasley hangs her white coat in the small closet and grabs her outdoor jacket. Harry tries not to stare too long when the light catches the gold in her hair as she flips it from the collar.

On the way out of the club, they stop off for Harry to grab his gym bag from the darkened locker room and stroll easily through the empty halls. Nodding to the night guard, Leigh, Harry and Ginny leave through the main doors and wander toward the car park.

His belly begins to ache with laughter as Ginny regales him with another tale from med school and Harry half feels like they're just two people on a date, rather than whatever kind of coworkers they technically are. And the other half of him is internally screaming at him to ask her on a _real_ one.

She finishes and their shares laughter dies down, and Ginny's smiling up at him so his brain nearly short circuits. When her stomach grumbles and it's the perfect opportunity like he's _meant_ to do this.

"You – would you like to get something to eat Dr. Weasley? I haven't had anything since lunch."

A beat, and Harry thinks he's read things wrong or crossed some professional line, but then she's smiling and nodding, "I think that would be ok, and Ginny's fine – for non-work encounters," she shrugs, "it's only neighborly."

"First names _after_ you've seen me naked's a bit unusual."

"It's pretty standard for doctors, I see lots of naked men."

"Is that right?" Harry asks with a smirk, gravel crunching beneath his trainers.

"I do," Ginny nods, unflinching though she does send him a sideways glance, "fine specimens of athletic prowess, since I'm in _sports_ med."

The wind swirls a bit stronger, night air chill enough that he finds himself pulling his jacket tighter as he elbows Ginny lightly, "Then I trust you'll be ready to whip me and the rest into shape."

Ginny laughs, bright and playful in the clear night, "I'm a firmly no-whip practice."

Harry lets out a loud 'Ha!,' and he knows he's not imagining the spark in her chocolate eyes as they come to a halt, both lingering at what he realized is his car, "Protecting me while I walk to my car?"

She laughs, "Don't ant them to think you're un-guarded," her gaze drifts up and down his form in a few lingering circuits, "You seem a bit of an easy target."

"Very inappropriate calling me _easy_ ," Harry gasps, scandalized as he clutches his chest.

"Aren't you though?" Ginny asks, propping one hand against the cool metal of Harry's inky black car so he ends up with his back propped against the window, her thumb brushing his shoulder. She twitches it once or twice and a shiver runs up his spine as she ticks her lips up in a half smirk, "You were prancing about for me naked before we even met."

She bends her elbow a bit and they're even closer than before, and Harry feels like he might die if he doesn't get to examine that little freckle that bleeds over onto the pink of her lips, up close and personal. "I – "

Ginny tsks, "We're – "

Harry pitches forward a bit, so they're _definitely_ closer than polite company would require, and Ginny's apparently lost her train of thought. Which Harry is _not_ going to let slide. "You were saying?"

"I don't remember," Ginny breathes.

And despite his teasing, Harry can't help the nervous swallow before he prompts, "Dinner?"

"Yeah."


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: ya i lied there's probably gonna be a part 4 hehehe. If anybody has requests for what they'd like to see in the coming chapter(s), let me know and I'll try fitting it in (I'd like to keep drama minimal and just make this some cute fluffy hinny WITH some people that may excite you...)

* * *

"Not to be pushy, love, but you do seem to be brooding a bit more than usual."

Harry looks up into his mum's teasing eyes – almond shaped and green like his – and sighs, "Not brooding."

"Come on, Dad's in the kitchen cooking and he won't hear a word from me," she prods, refreshing both their cups and grabbing at Harry's hand, "You've got my mum's instincts flaring."

"It's not – well I _am_ – it's not _bad_ ," Harry pauses, "Mostly."

Resettling on the couch, Lily twists until she's got one leg bent beneath her and her gaze fully focused on Harry. "Ok. Hit me with it."

"If you tell Dad or Sirius I swear – "

" _Ah_. A girl, then," she nods knowingly and Harry frowns.

"I'm an adult _Mum,_ she's a _woman_ ," Harry murmurs mulishly, rolling his eyes.

Ruffling his hair, Lily tilts her head and takes him in, likely noticing the things a mother does when she's worried – bruises from training, dark circles beneath his eyes – what she surely deems evidence that he really isn't taking proper care of himself. "And where did you meet this 'woman.'"

Internally, Harry debates whether he should try and formulate some sort of cover story for their initial meeting, but nothing will really adequately convey exactly the hole he's dug for himself except the truth. "Promise no Dad?" Lily nods, and Harry points his finger at her, "Or Sirius – or _Remus_."

"My lips are sealed."

"She – Ginny – lives in my building," Harry starts, determinedly _not_ making eye contact and fiddling with the frayed edge of his jeans.

"Chance meeting on the lift?" Lily guesses as a crash and a subsequent barrage of swears come from the kitchen, "James – are you alright, dear?"

More swearing, and then James calls out that he's 'alive,' which isn't particularly comforting as far as terminology goes, but mother and son have grown somewhat used to James' flair for drama, and thus dive back in to the conversation before it's too late.

Harry pauses, recalling where they'd left off and flushes involuntarily. "We – not the lift. She's my sort of neighbor?"

"Sort of."

"She saw me naked," Harry blurts, eyes going wide while Lily is apparently rendered speechless, which is an unusual occurrence for a woman known for her general witty barbs and the infamous 'Giant Squid' speech.

"Is your sexual activity pertinent to this story Harry? Because mums only want to know so much."

Harry's face is now fully buried in his hands, the blush of his embarrassment rising to cover the tips of his ears, while his mother looks a bit worse for the wear. Which is the exact moment James decides to make his entrance, "Sex talk after dinner – I made baby corn and they're really too young."

With a loud and melodramatic moan Sirius would be proud of, Harry rolls off the couch, nose pressed into the luxurious nap of the rug. "Just go on and eat without me – I'm hoping to just die right here."

It's quiet for a moment, and then James has apparently taken in his son's state and turned to his wife, "Was I this prone to histrionics?"

"Between your Potter genetics, and Sirius' influence, it's a miracle he's not in constant _Hamlet_ mode," Lily drawls, and Harry can practically _hear_ the flirty smirk he knows his mother is sending his father, and it's rather gross.

Pushing up on his elbows, Harry looks up at them, "Please stop whatever," he points pack and forth between them, "this is."

They both let go of the distressingly heated glance they were sharing and put on their best innocent faces. James tosses the tea towel over his shoulder, "I have no idea what you're referencing, son of mine."

Harry's debating the mental ramifications of detailing _exactly_ what he's referencing, and he must look serious because Lily interrupts, "Why don't we eat? It smells lovely."

James quirks a brow at Lily and then offers Harry a hand up, and his smile is _way_ too even to be trusted. "Sure, we can discuss Harry's new life as a nudist over stir fry."

* * *

As usual, dinner with his parents is filled with mutual, good-natured teasing and too much food, but Harry finds himself somewhat comforted after. Despite his reservations about telling James too, the Potters really do their best work together. Which is saying something, considering James' international renown in the medical community and Lily's multiple doctorates. By the time Harry's driving over the familiar winding roads that lead to his flat, he's loads further from the nervous break down he was verging on earlier, ready to be what Lily termed a 'mature adult' and talk things over with Ginny.

Because the theoretical world where he just lets it go and moves on sounds both unpleasant and unattainable. When you sort of live and sort of work together, there's bound to be interactions – the working together part maybe involving Harry sans clothes – and they will be highly awkward if he lets things peter out. So at least this way, the awkwardness would be proactively created, but also possibly avoided if Ginny likes him too.

And he thinks stuff like that now – 'if she likes me too' – because he's a dork trapped in a jock's body. _Thanks dad._

He would be lying if he said he hadn't already been a little infatuated with his sassy neighbor _before_ dinner and after, he's well and truly smitten. Yes _smitten_. And he wants to see her again, to _keep_ seeing her as much as possible.

But this realization came alongside the revelation that they are also sort of coworkers and she's almost his doctor, which he's not really sure if any of that is a real problem or not – a series of questions that can't be resolved without talking things through with Ginny. At least that's what Mum said.

And he must _really_ fancy her, because this will involve a full on adult conversation about feelings and relationships and shite – all of which he normally avoids like the plague. Relationships mainly because of the feelings bit that's involved rather than the actual idea of commitment. Still, he's mentally revving himself up to do it sooner rather than later, so he doesn't faff about too long and lose his chance.

 _Maybe Monday,_ Harry muses as he's pulling into the garage.

After fumbling to carry the leftovers his parents had piled into his arms when he was leaving Godric's Hollow, Harry manages to lock his car with an echoing _beep_ as confirmation and sighs as he hears the rain start pattering.

The walk from the garage to the apartment building is only a few meters, but its enough that he's water logged and distracted by the time he's nearly at the entrance and has no chance of dodging the umbrella that opens directly into his – _sensitive area_.

And his entire mind goes white as he's being ushered – he thinks – into the building and guided to one of the bland couches that decorate the lobby. "Bloody hell, I'm being smited – or is it smote? Never mind, you don't care."

He moans a bit and he's being relieved of his burdens, which somehow didn't end up on the pavement. "Shite, I'm so sorry Harry."

Harry groans again, this time for his truly poor luck in wooing women – or this woman in particular. "Hey Gin," he manages to grunt, eyes scrunched shut against the pain and also in the faint hope that this is all a dream.

Ginny's hand is cool and damp against his forehead, brushing his drenched locks from his forehead. He's so caught up in enjoying it for a handful of moments he almost forgets. "You were off somewhere, you can go. I'm alright."

"It wasn't – "

"But you're a doctor."

She chuckles, low and a bit self-deprecating and he feels his chest warm despite his rain-drenched jumper. "I was on my way to buy a pint of ice cream to eat alone in my flat, ok Harry?"

Tilting his head against the back of the couch so his cheek is pressed against the slightly stale smelling cotton, Harry smiles, eyes twinkling behind streaky glasses. "I have ice cream."

Her eyes dart over his face and her expression is almost what he'd call fond as she murmurs, "Yeah?"

"Mint chocolate," Harry confirms with a shallow nod that sends his frames crooked.

Ginny drops her arm flat against the couch back and her fingers brush his temple. "Not my first choice, but I guess your offer has benefits."

Harry winks at her exaggeratedly and drawls flirtatiously, "I should think so."

Nodding while her lips tilt in a mischievous smirk, Ginny agrees as she pulls Harry to his feet, "Of course. I won't have to go out in the rain."

Narrowing his eyes playfully, Harry picks up his abandoned parcels and tilts his head toward the far end of the lobby, "Get in the damn lift Weasley."


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: LONG OVERDUE. But life has been crazy and I'm trying to write way too many things at once lol. I hope you enjoy this one (I think you might!)

As always, I would love to hear your thoughts or particular scenes/ideas you'd like to see play out in this one since I'm just flying blindly in AU fluff land.

I so appreciate all your comments and reviews! They make my day :) 3

* * *

Ginny picks up on the fourth ring and Harry lets out a sigh of relief, "How does doctor/patient confidentiality work when technically you're the _team_ 's doctor?"

Her laugh warms his chest and he grins despite the throbbing in his head. "I can keep any non-team check ups to myself, I'd say."

Rubbing at the rising lump on his forehead, Harry drops back onto the cushions dejectedly while the telly flickered soundlessly. "How about we work in hypotheticals just for the time-being then?"

Another laugh and Harry moans when his smile and subsequent eyebrow scrunch wrinkles his forehead. Ginny lets out a low, impatient grunt over the line, "Sounds like you should stop faffing about and tell me what's up."

"I've got a lump that's rapidly reaching Kinder Egg size."

"Where? – You know what, scratch that, I'll be down in a tic," Ginny answers, "Will you be able to let me in or shall I break down the door?"

Harry lets out a low chuckle, "I'll let you in."

Despite his dizziness and the thudding in his head, Harry _does_ manage to get a bit nervous and let his eyes dart about the living space in search of abandoned dirty pants and other undesirable décor when entertaining a woman. Not that he's particularly in a position to _entertain_ , in any sense of the word.

Still, his heart jumps into his throat when Ginny's sharp rap sounds at the door and Harry shuffles over, careful and slow considering his recent bout of clumsiness above his usual. When he peers through the peephole, Ginny's on the other side, dark bag in one hand and the other propped on her hip.

As if she can sense him on the other side, a wry smile tips her lips as she looks up somewhere around where his face would be. "Open up, eh? Or have you suddenly become shy?" She leans close and whispers, "You forget I've already seen you starkers."

Harry rips the door open and scowls, ushering her inside. "Someone'll hear and it'll get back to Skeeter."

Ginny's teasing grin slips from her lips as soon as she sees Harry's head. "Bloody hell, Harry," and then _she's_ shooing _him_ inside. "Have a seat at the table, eh? Let me take a look."

With a few encouraging prods, Ginny leads Harry to his kitchen table and tugs two chairs out, pushing Harry into one and taking the other for herself, settling on the edge and dropping her bag to the side with a soft thud. Briefly, gently, she lets one hand cradle the back of his head while she gently probes the lump with cool fingers. "How'd you manage this, Potter?"

Fighting to keep his eyes from drifting shut at her touch, Harry lets his eyes trip over her face while hers study him clinically. Though they do soften when he winces at her poking and prodding. "Sorry love."

Harry nods shallowly while Ginny roots through her bag in search of her penlight. Once she's found it, Ginny holds the beam up to each of his eyes – now sans glasses – in turn and Harry blinks away the spots that color his vision. "Well you haven't done too much damage it seems," Ginny drawls, holding a finger up for him to follow with his eyes.

They proceed through the exam, Harry following her quiet directions. "How'd this happen exactly?"

Letting his eyes dart away, Harry mumbles in the direction of his shoulder, hopefully unheard. Ginny's apparently not particularly ready to let his murmured explanation slide, dropping her hands to her chest and leveling Harry with a look that brooks no arguments. Dropping his head, Harry answers louder, "Walked into the doorframe," he rubs at the matching lump on the back of his head, "Then stood up into the handle."

"Holding out on me," Ginny sighs, shaking her head and standing to examine the second lump, sending a wave of flowery something wafting in his direction and he's dizzy for a reason _other_ than his twin head wounds for the first time that afternoon.

Ginny hums thoughtfully, fingers running across his scalp and Harry nearly moans at the feeling, _get a grip Potter._

After asking a few clinical questions, Ginny sits back in her chair and gives Harry an unreadable look. "You _might_ have a concussion."

Harry winces, which only serves to make his bump hurt worse. "Bloody buggering – Wood is going to _kill_ me if I can't play."

Ginny quirks a brow and Harry elaborates, "He said I wasn't allowed to get hurt anymore."

"Yeah, you _did_ have your own bullet point on our meeting agenda."

He can't help a laugh at that, "Sounds accurate – Wood says I drive him to drink," Harry pauses when Ginny snickers, "Which is metaphorical because he avoids alcohol to remain at 'peak physical shape.'"

"Well, in the name of Wood's sanity and continued abstinence," Ginny starts off, tossing her remaining tools into her bag, "I think we'll keep this between us," Harry sighs in relief and Ginny holds up a halting finger, " _For the time being_."

Harry nods and Ginny rises, all business, "And you'll come back to my flat."

His eyes widen and Ginny's cheeks color, the first crack in her professional demeanor. "So I can _observe_ you overnight."

"Observe me, eh?" Harry wheedles, wriggling his brows teasingly.

"Don't test me, Potter. I'll ring Nurse Boris," she pauses, playful, "he likes to take temperatures hourly – and that's the only time he _babies_ his patients, catch my drift?"

And this is one of the few times Harry _hasn't_ been glad Ginny was glancing at his arse. "Alright, _alright_."

Ginny closes her bag with a swift and practiced _zip_. "Let's get your necessities together then."

At that, they both bustle about – Ginny more than Harry considering the circumstances – readying Harry for a night out, before taking the lift to Ginny's floor.

Once Harry's settled in on the couch, remote in hand and scrolling through Netflix, Ginny fishes around for a few local delivery menus and reads each name off in turn.

They eventually settle on Chinese, unapologetically ordering far too much food for two people and fully intending to eat the majority before night's end.

While they wait, Ginny sits on the small couch next to Harry, the seat only just wide enough for two to sit comfortably, and not quite without brushing at the slightest shift. The third time Harry's forearm brushes hers while he flicks through her queue Ginny leans into it a bit, so their arms are pressed together from shoulder to wrist. Without turning, Ginny reaches across and swipes the remote so Harry's hand drops to the cushion, knuckles kissing hers. Before he can get past second-guessing and knit their fingers together, there's a buzz at the door and Ginny rushes to let the delivery person in the building, and by the time they're back together on the couch, the moment's passed.

They spend the next three quarters of an hour sharing bites and battling for the last spring roll until they've demolished more than half of their spoils and hardly watched two minutes of telly together.

When the credits roll on the third episode Ginny twists on her cushion, bringing one knee up and grabbing Harry's face and tilting it toward her. He gets a bit eager at that, heart thudding in his chest, but quickly finds himself being subjected to another examination. Harry can't help but let his eyes drift over her face, cataloguing as many freckles as he can before Ginny catches on. But if her slight smirk is any indication, he hasn't had much success.

"Seems everything's alright so far."

Harry nods slow, a smile tickling at his mouth. "I don't know that I quite feel up to being on my own though."

"No, I don't suppose you would just yet," Ginny agrees, an answering grin on her own face.

And when she twists back toward the television, her hand drops right into his, grasped loosely, but without hesitation on either of their parts. After they finish another episode, Harry works up the courage to release her hand and slot his arm over the back of the sofa, holding his breath as Ginny's shoulders tense for a moment and he wonders whether he's about to add a black eye to his list of injuries.

Instead, Ginny settles back, keeping her eyes on the screen. "No sleeping for you just yet, Mr. Potter, just in case."

All told, when Ginny drops her head against his shoulder, Harry can hardly think of a time he's been more awake.

Still, as the hours pass, the two of them eventually returning to their feast for late night seconds before stowing the leftovers in the ice box and snuggling a bit more familiarly on the couch, chattering easily more than actually paying attention to the program as it strobes by on the screen.

Eventually, Ginny declares it 'about time for bed' and disappears into the back of the flat. Harry rises, fluffing the cushions and searching for a chair or footstool to hold his gangly legs while he sleeps.

Before he can execute his plan to conscript a dining room chair for the job, Ginny returns with fresh sheets and a spare pillow, looking impatient enough that he half expects her to start tapping her foot. "Are you going to come help me lay out fresh linens or am I to be doctor _and_ nursemaid?"

Harry rises and follows her unuttered instructions as she tilts her head toward what's presumably her bedroom.

The bed's already been stripped, old sheets tossed to the corner and the blanket piled on an overstuffed armchair under the window. Ginny nudges him from behind. "Don't hold up the winds of progress, Potter, budge over so I can unburden myself."

Despite Ginny's easy chatter early on, silence falls and stays as they re-make the bed, though they do work easily in tandem without more than subtle gestures and passed supplies between them. There's not an inch of hesitation until Harry finds himself at the head of the bed with the second pillow half placed, half in hand. Ginny catches his pause after a moment and her previously all-together façade cracks a bit, for the first time showing she's not _quite_ as all knowing as she'd like him to think. "Well go ahead, then. I've got to keep watch, remember?"

Harry laughs a bit, part genuine, part necessary to relieve the tension knitting his ribs together, and complies.

They take turns in the loo, readying themselves for sleep and soon enough Harry's tucked underneath the covers, fresh with that flowery scent that follows Ginny wherever she goes. And despite his fatigue and the late hour, Harry's not quite confident he'll be able to sleep so surrounded by her.

Yet, once she does a final check and tucks him in, his lids are getting heavy, and when she curls up next to him on top of the covers with a knobby hand-knit blanket over herself, Harry drifts off.

Fairly certain Ginny'd half invented an excuse for them to remain together – an excuse he was ready to accept without question – Harry's a bit surprised when Ginny _does_ wake him periodically for checks. Apparently he doesn't hide his surprise well, or Ginny can read him to a surprising degree, because the third wake up, as she's shining her penlight in his right eye, Ginny murmurs, "I don't think you've got a concussion, but I'd prefer to be safe."

Harry nods and when she's about to put her instruments away again, he grasps her wrist, lightly, loose enough that she can pull away if she wants. Her eyes slide from his face to his hand, and back again. Taking heart when she doesn't rebuff him, Harry tugs lightly and she follows his silent plea, dropping down so her forearms frame his ribcage. "Alright Harry?"

Their noses brush when Harry cranes his neck up, but Ginny quickly puts an end to that. "No exertions, love."

His hand comes to knit through her sleep-mussed hair so _she_ comes down to _him_ and their lips just brush. "None at all?"

Their breaths mix and Harry likes to think he can feel Ginny's heart thudding in the dark as fast as his. Ginny presses her mouth to his, light and barely there before murmuring, "I suppose there's room for _some_ leeway in the rest and relaxation prescription."

Before she can rethink her lax enforcement, Harry kisses her, longer and deeper than before and her lips part with a sigh. In between kisses, she whispers, "Is this alright?"

Harry nods soundlessly, nipping at her ear as his fingers tease at the hem of her nightshirt. "Is _this_ alright?"

" _Yes_ ," Ginny nearly moans, mapping his chest over the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

She drags the hem up to the bottom of his ribcage as he nuzzles the juncture between her jawline and neck. "This?"

Tilting up so she can fully remove the garment, Harry sighs, "More than."

And when he makes to do the same, pulling away from his full exploration of her lips to ask permission, Ginny chuckles and rubs her nose against his, "Harry dear, I think we're both ok with this, yeah?"

Harry laughs and tips her onto her back so he's looming overhead, "Yeah, that's a safe bet."


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Finally! Hope you enjoy and Happy New Year!

* * *

As usual it's still dark when Harry's 'warm up' alarm sounds jarringly from his phone on the night table. Luckily, he's remembered to plug it in despite his head injury.

Head injury…head lump… _Ginny_.

She's still there, when he twists his head gingerly to the side, sleeping like the dead with her hair wild about the pillow and fingers scrunched in a fist just beneath her chin.

If he'd been more up for a fight, Harry'd have insisted _she_ be the one tucked under the duvet. Though he is rather enjoying the sight of Ginny Weasley wrapped up next to him in bed in her dressing gown like she belongs there.

At first, his instinct is to twist onto his side fully, but that sends the blood – or whatever – rushing to the lump on his head and it's a bit uncomfortable. Bloody hell, Wood is going to _kill_ him.

"That's a level of distress I don't like to see on my bedfellow when I wake up," Ginny murmurs, pushing up on one elbow so her robe gapes across her chest.

Hopefully _he_ doesn't gape too.

Luckily, his brain and mouth do catch up relatively quickly. "No – I – my head." _Perhaps 'catch up' was an overstatement._

A frown wrinkles her face as she sits up fully to hover over him in a much more clinical fashion than he'd fantasized.

As her fingers brush along his hairline, thumbs prodding the lump gently, Harry's eyes drift closed and he wonders _how_ creepy he is for enjoying a mental exam. Though they _did_ snog into the wee hours and Ginny follows up her poking and prodding with a kiss to the un-swollen part of his forehead, so perhaps he's not too bad.

"Swelling's down some," Ginny pronounces, tucking into his side and letting one hand lie across his chest, "Though as your doctor, I'm going to say today needs to be light on training."

Harry groans and Ginny chuckles, " _Ideally_ you'd not even go – "

"And then Wood'll call out a hit on me and you'll give the eulogy at my funeral, " Harry finishes matter-of-factly.

Ginny hums thoughtfully, "Great footballer – even better snog."

He barks out a laugh and tugs so she's half-hovering over him, "Short, to the point. I like," he pauses as she leans down to peck at his lips, "Though I'm not sure that'll comfort mum in the wake of my untimely demise."

She kisses him again, chaste at first, until they get a _bit_ sidetracked. It's a time later when she's working her way down his neck and his hands are toying with the loosely tied knot at her waist that she murmurs, "Not sure your funeral's the ideal place to reveal our – "

The pause is deliberate, and Harry _could_ tease her, but her fingers are scritching under his t-shirt and he's lucky he's not lost full function of his voice, "Relationship – if you'll – ah – have me."

Ginny sits back and nuzzles his nose, "I could be _persuaded_."

Harry hums against her lips, "I'd _like_ to, but I'm on orders to avoid strenuous activities – doctor's a pain in the arse."

Her head drops against his sternum, " _I'd_ like to give that spoil sport a piece of my mind."

Harry scratches at her shoulders lightly, "Nah, she's alright," Ginny groans and Harry smirks, "Mostly."

They get… _distracted_ a bit, but Ginny does manage to get her mind back onto other, more important things. Important, albeit less enjoyable things.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

A hum rumbles through his chest as he frowns, confused.

"Your alarm," Ginny supplies, pulling away when Harry tries to renew their _activities_.

"Alarms are for chumps without head wounds," Harry laughs, "Seriously, I usually get up and work out, but I've been told to take it easy."

As he begins nipping at her jawline, Ginny sighs, "We really should tell Wood, and he can tell the owner or," Harry's working behind her ear now and Ginny sighs, "whoever cares."

Pulling away, Harry bites his lip, "The team is going to be insufferable, you know."

"Surely Wood can be discreet," Ginny answers, flopping back onto her pillow and leaving Harry feeling embarrassingly bereft.

"He _can_ , but the question is _will_ he – especially when we follow up 'we're dating' with 'guess what highly paid klutz is out of commission for the day?'"

The 'WARNING. MUST BE AWAKE' alarm sounds from Harry's phone and he silences it with a groan. "Maybe tell him this one's from some heroic deed – _not_ me being a wanker who can't walk properly?"

Carding her fingers through his hair, Ginny sighs with placating sadness, "I'm already blurring enough ethical lines, love."

Harry rolls from her bed and pulls on the set of sweats he'd packed for the day. He's halfway through brushing his teeth with his finger for a toothbrush, when Ginny saunters in and twists the shower on. She throws a flirtatious smirk over her shoulder as she begins to let her robe slip down her freckled back, and Harry turns his gaze away pointedly as she steps into the steam. "Alright if I shower?"

He scrunches his eyes closed and croaks around his mouthful of toothpaste, "Sure," Ginny's arm pokes from behind the curtain, as she offers a thumbs up, and Harry can't help but smile, "It's your place."

As he rinses his mouth – and his hand – Harry sighs and attempts to keep his mond off Ginny's state of undress, "I can't believe I forgot a toothbrush."

Her head peeks around the curtain. "You do have a head injury – " the curtain falls closed as she continues, "Though _I_ don't have much excuse."

Harry throws water on his face and towels dry, smirking into the fogging mirror though Ginny can't see him. "You _were_ distracted by the prospect of bringing a famous footballer back to your flat."

Her bark of a laugh follows him as he heads out to root around in the kitchen for some kind of breakfast while keeping his mind off Ginny's milky, freckled arm, with tiny droplets slipping from them and catching on her fingertips ash she slowly towels – _anyway, toast_.

Ginny comes out, wrapped in her dressing gown once again, when Harry's halfway through his toast. As she works at her still dripping hair with a damp towel, Ginny swipes a section of toast and bites into it with a grin. "Thanks for breakfast."

She's leaning against the counter now, a bit more close than polite company requires, so Harry silences his doubts and lets his hand fall to brush along her forearm, lingering. "Shower ok?"

There's a pause as Ginny eyes his hand and Harry's beginning to wonder if he's overestimated what she's looking for, until she steps closer and knits her fingers through his messy locks. "You can touch my elbow Harry. I'm not going to bite your hand off."

Encouraged, Harry lets his hand slip under the sleeve of her robe and scoots closer. "So if I," he leans in so his nose brushes her cheekbone and his breath tickles her ear, "do this," his lips tease her jawline, "It's ok?"

Ginny's hands tighten at his shoulder and she slants her mouth over his, pulling barely a breath away, "More than," she sighs, "Though if I'm being the voice of reason – "

She pauses as he kisses his way down her neck, Harry groans. "Please don't be," he lingers at her collarbone as her fingers tighten in his hair, "Unless that voice is saying 'snog Harry more.'"

Dropping her forehead to his shoulder, Ginny murmurs, " _You've_ got practice and we still haven't talked about how we're going to go 'official.'"

Harry nuzzles her hair and relents, albeit reluctantly, "We could go over and tell Wood together," Ginny nods, "Probable get some paperwork from human resources."

After pressing a kiss to his throat, Ginny lets distance spread between them, her hands sliding down his arms to grip his, "And I run all my decisions and diagnosis through my supervisor at hospital anyway, so we can assure everyone there's no sketchy business afoot."

"Alright Sherlock," Harry teases, sliding from the barstool with a creak, "Go grab your deerstalker and pipe so we can go."

Even though they have resolved to come clean, for appearances _and_ convenience, they take separate cars to the club. Though Ginny still walks Harry to his car. "Drive safe, yeah?" she kisses him, short and sweet, "I've got to run some errands at the shops and I don't want to be interrupted by another Potter emergency."

" _That_ is a lie," Harry laughs, leaning against the car door, "You'd love any excuse to see my beautiful face."

Ginny rolls her eyes affectionately and shoves his shoulder lightly, "Off you go before you _start off_ on Wood's bad side and still have to break the 'head trauma' news."

The nearby trees rustle in the light breeze as Harry pulls the door open with a cluck and slips into his car. "See you around lunch, then?"

"Aye."

All things considered, Wood takes Harry's injury fairly well, which may be in part because Harry relents and runs some drills, though he still doesn't go full force.

He may weaken under the brunt of Wood's stare when Ginny's not there to combat it with a flirtatious bat of her brown eyes, but he's still got a measure of self-preservation instincts that take into account the likelihood of long-term injury from over-exertion – as well as Ginny's resulting wrath.

Which he does incur, to an extent, when he rounds the corner at half past and runs smack into the scowling doctor of his dreams. "' _Not to worry, Gin, I'll be sure to take it easy_ '," Ginny mocks, eyes scraping over his form clinically. She tugs a flashlight from her purse and holds it in front of each of his eyes in turn.

"Seems you haven't done irreparable harm," she scowls, "Though I would like to conduct a full exam."

Harry glances around the empty corridor before tugging Ginny into a nearby empty – closet.

"Are we twelve," Ginny teases.

"I thought we'd need some privacy for your," Harry pauses for effect, " _full exam_."

Shaking her head – though she can't help but laugh – Ginny delivers a pinch to his chest, "So we _are_ twelve."

Still, she rises on tiptoes and wraps her arms around his neck loosely, lips pressing against his hotly. A kiss Harry returns eagerly, following Ginny's silent instructions as she sighs and walks them backward until she's pressed against the wall, his body pressed against hers.

In between presses, Ginny whispers, "Don't you need to – _ah_ – be somewhere?"

Harry nips at her ear and murmurs, "Just lunch."

Ginny pulls away, lips swollen and hair ruffled, "You need to eat."

"I've got a granola bar," Harry answers easily before resuming his attentions, his hands teasing the hem of her shirt so she's a little breathless when she answers, "That's not healthy – "

Before she can finish her remonstration, the door creaks open and Harry tucks Ginny into his chest, "Piss off – " he luckily turns in time to see it's Chapman, and Wood's clipped footsteps sound from not far off. Chapman is smirking but _does_ turn away to give them privacy _and_ to put Wood off. "McKinney must've been mistaken, no Harry," he waits a moment, "I'm sure he'll _come to your office as soon as he's presentable_."

And in case Harry didn't get the instruction for what it was, Chapman coughs dramatically and seems to usher Wood toward his office.

Ginny blinks up at Harry and he's preparing for an earful, but she dissolves into laughter and Harry follows soon after.

"At least it was just Chapman," Harry says finally, when their laughter has stopped and they're neatening themselves.

Ginny snorts and smooths Harry's shirtfront, "Chapman is an everyday hero."

Harry barks a laugh and pokes his head out the door before slipping out, beckoning Ginny to follow after him. She slides her hand into his and they make their way toward Wood's office, and find a rather smug looking Chapman at his desk outside. "You can head on in, he's waiting for Harry anyway."

After punching Chapman's side playfully, Harry lets Ginny lead the way into Wood's office, "Ready?"

He kisses her forehead, "Yeah."


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: YAY finally. I was going to post this earlier but I wrote another 800 words because I felt like it was too short. Hope you all enjoy this one! The end of the chapter does set up some events for the next chapter but if you have any ideas or prompts of things you'd like me to try and work in, please let me know! This is just a fun fluff fic so I'm open to suggestions!

* * *

Harry hesitates, doesn't actually link their fingers but lets his knuckles caress hers. "I feel bad, y'know."

"That I'm going to get carpal tunnel from all those forms?" Ginny teases, knotting their fingers together as they slowly make their way down the deserted corridor.

He swipes his thumb across the back of her hand. "The last two weeks of your life have been essentially been nurse Harry back to health duty."

" _Doctor_ Harry back to health," Ginny corrects, squeezing his palm, "So as your doctor and your – "

"Girlfriend sounds ok to me," Harry finishes, slowing to a stop, his back against the wall as he pulls Ginny closer.

She smirks up at him, toying with his practice kit, "Well if it's just _ok_ …"

"No, more than," Harry laughs, dropping her hand to grip her waist, tickling at the waistband of her skirt, "Though I'm _not_ a fan of these tucked in shirts."

Pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, smooth and fresh with the scent of his aftershave, Ginny strokes his hair back, "Got to be professional."

Harry nuzzles her temple, "Guess so. I'll see you tonight, girlfriend?"

"Yes you will, official, HR approved boyfriend," Ginny answers, patting his cheek and sauntering away, heels clacking, "Now I'm off to do what I'm actually being paid for."

" _Which_ is keeping the team healthy," Harry puts in, jogging to catch up, "particularly me, given my history," he slants his gaze toward Ginny's, her lips quirking, "and health _is_ closely related to happiness so – "

She cuts him off with a short kiss, "Don't be a wanker," then swiftly smacks his rear and winks, "Now go play football and get that little arse all tight for me."

Turning toward the weights room, Harry points an accusing finger at her, "Excuse me I have a very tight arse."

Ginny's retort is cut off by a throat clearing behind them and Harry's eyes widen as Wood strolls closer, arms folded across his chest, clipboard in hand. After a moment for recovery Harry turns his attention to the team manager, "I do though, right?"

And if he didn't know better, Harry would think Wood's lips twitched before he grumbled, "Potter get your tight little arse down to the locker room."

A triumphant grin spreads across Harry's face as he salutes and trots backwards, " _See_? Tight!"

After he disappears around the corner, Ginny turns to try and make some sort of apologies while keeping the laughter from her voice, Wood's expression entirely serious as he blinks once, then twice, and his eyes wrinkle with a smile, "Congratulations Dr. Weasley."

Brain nearly fried at the uncharacteristic humor on Wood's face, Ginny almost doesn't hear her phone buzzing in her bag. When she finally does, she presses her thumb to unlock the screen and stifles a snort when she sees a text from Harry waiting.

 **Harry** : [peach emoji] it's got nothing on mine

 **Ginny** : stop sexting me at work

 **Harry** : excuse me dr.

 **Harry** : I was discussing fruit

 **Harry** : which is an important part of my diet

 **Ginny** : keep your fruit in your pants and we'll discuss it later

* * *

Traffic is light by the time Ginny's making her way home from the hospital. After finishing up some housekeeping type duties at the stadium, she'd been scheduled to perform a minor procedure at the surgery. Of course, her desire to return home in time to see a certain footballer and the fact that she skipped lunch meant everything that could go poorly during the operation _did_. It was a dozen tiny things – the patient taking a bit too long to wake up from the anesthesia, a gangly twelve-year-old rugby player being rushed into emergency with a severe sprain and a coach flushed with worry, and three broken printers – but by the time she's scrubbed out and riding the lift, she's dead tired enough that she's halfway down the hall before she realizes she's on the way to _Harry's_ flat.

And when she's standing in front of his door, the thought of seeing his bright green eyes, his smile flashing at her the overpowering vision in her mind, she forgets all the reasons she should go back to her own flat and pass out. Harry answers on the third knock and ushers her in without hesitation.

Stepping over the threshold hesitantly, Ginny lingers near Harry's discarded line up of trainers, cleats, and boots. "I don't know why I'm even here – "

"Because you could smell my stir fry from the street?" Harry laughs, hands grasping her elbows and slowly pulling her further into the flat.

Ginny kicks her trainers off haphazardly and lets Harry guide her toward the kitchen, perking at the spiced scents wafting from the simmering wok. Hands drifting to her waist, Harry leans forward to press a kiss to her lips and Ginny ducks away, forehead dropping to his shoulder. "I'm pretty disgusting right now."

"I think not," Ginny's mouth drops open to fire an answer back but Harry doesn't relent, " _But_ if you would feel better, you can use my shower and steal some clothes."

Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, Ginny sighs, "It _would_ be nice to be out of my scrubs and not smell like disinfectant."

"If you use my shampoo, you'll trade hospital for 'clean 'n' fresh,' if I'm not mistaken."

Ginny chuckles against his throat and presses her lips to his steady pulse. "Thanks."

Once the bathroom's filling with steam, warm tendrils wrapping around her and relaxing her sore muscles, Ginny finally feels the stress of the day dripping from her. She peels her socks from her feet and tugs her scrub top off with some difficulty as her body begins its rebellion after a too long day and her arms somehow manage to tangle themselves together. It's in this state that Harry finds her, one green eye closed and the other pointedly looking at her pale toes, chipped yellow paint bright against the plush bath mat. "I brought you some clean clothes and a towel – " his gaze darts up and he chuckles, "You need help?"

"No," Ginny grunts out, finally freeing herself of the pale blue scrub top and scowling at the sweat stains across her Henley, "Thank you."

Smirking, Harry sets the change of clothes and towel on the countertop and salutes Ginny teasingly before slipping back out the door. Once she sheds the rest of her clothes and steps beneath the spray of the shower, Ginny's half convinced this is the greatest experience of her life, nearly moaning as the hot water pounds her shoulders. Harry's shower is surprisingly clean, particularly for a bachelor, tiles shined bright – likely from the after shower cleaner tucked in the corner opposite his shampoo and soaps.

When she squeezes a generous dollop of the pearlescent liquid into her palm, Ginny's hit with the heady aroma of _Harry_ and she's not at all prepared. Despite the over-warm water massaging her skin 'til it's red, a shiver runs up her spine while goose bumps rise on her freckled forearms. And it only gets stronger as she works her hair into a lather, the fresh, minty suds sliding over her curves and pooling at her feet while she tries _not_ to think of Harry standing just here, washing his hair, the bubbles slipping down his –

Blowing out a short, impatient, breath through her nose, Ginny finishes working the shampoo through her locks and scrubs everything else with a sort of gritty body wash Harry's got on the lip of the tub.

By the time she's stepping free of the spray and turning the taps off with a handful of squeaks, her skin is rosy and the mirror's a foggy blur. After toweling off, with many creaks and groans accompanying her twisting and contorting, Ginny slips into the perfectly worn jersey with _POTTER_ emblazoned across the back and the nondescript grey cotton joggers that bunch around her ankles.

She folds her discarded things somewhat neatly and twists the towel around her head, not sure how long she's kept Harry waiting while she luxuriated, and steps from the steamy bathroom and back into the flat, a blast of cool air tickling her still-damp skin. Puttering around on tiptoes, Ginny tucks her shoes into the front corner with Harry's and sets her pile on top of them, dragging her abandoned purse toward it as well.

When she stands, towel crooked on her head and sleeves drooping over her fingers, Harry's frozen in place with plates and cutlery in hand. "Hi."

Grinning, she pushes the towel to the center of her head and steps closer. "Hi."

Cheeks flushing, Harry blinks rapidly and lets his eyes dart to the kitchen table as he sets two places somewhat clumsily. "Shower was alright?"

Ginny smiles to herself and searches for glasses and serviettes while Harry finishes his overly meticulous place settings and returns to the kitchen, eyes glazing a bit when she turns to him and she can't hold back the teasing. "Really? Overtired, soggy, and dressed in baggy clothes. That's what does it for you?"

Reaching forward, Harry takes the cups and napkins from her hands, walking her backward until the small of her back is pressed against the countertop as he murmurs, "Pretty much everything about you 'does it' for me, Gin."

* * *

Sunlight's breaking through a crack in the thick draperies against his windows when Harry wakes – _bright_ sunlight. It's been a good while since his schedule's allowed for a late wake up, and waking up late with a beautiful woman in his arms is a decided improvement to his usual crack-of-dawn, cold bed routine.

When he nuzzles closer, nose tucked into her sleep-mussed locks, Harry can't help but breath in her scent. There's the familiarity of his own soaps, but stronger is an earthy, light smell that's just so _Ginny_. And while he feels a bit daft for _smelling_ his girlfriend, he can't quite bring himself to stop.

Until her voice sounds, scratchy with sleep, "Are you sniffing me?"

He freezes for a moment, before throwing caution to the wind and pulling her closer, "Have a problem with that, Weasley?"

Twisting in his arms to face him, Ginny blinks away the bleariness in her chocolate brown eyes. "So long as it's _good_ sniffing."

Harry chuckles and kisses her, despite the niggling fear of morning breath, and grins. "Of course. You smell like me."

She pushes away from his chest with a mock glare. "Well if you just want to smell yourself – " and she's half out of the bed before Harry's arms band around her middle and tug her back beneath the crumpled sheets. "Don't know where you think you're going."

Eyebrows raised, Ginny smirks, "I thought I'd leave you alone to… _smell_ yourself."

"Are you – " Harry's response is cut off by a familiar trick knock at the door, " _Sirius_."

"Yes I am," Ginny laughs, but Harry's got his face buried between their pillows, and he's groaning too loud to hear her.

When he doesn't emerge, Ginny runs her hand up his spine, fingers cool beneath his t-shirt, and leans close. "We don't have to answer whoever it is."

As if in retort, Harry's phone lights up on the nightstand with a photo of a shiny black dog posed next to an even shinier motorbike and Harry groans again. "Yes we do."

Ginny sighs and leans closer, her hand inching higher as she nips at his earlobe and whispers, "Are you sure?"

Harry turns and tips Ginny onto her back, mouth hot and seeking on hers while she sneaks her other hand beneath his tee with a moan.

She's just about worked his top off when another knock sounds at the door, followed by a muffled entreaty for 'Baby Prongs' to open up, and Harry falls away with a groan. "Why does the universe conspire against me?"

Pressing a short kiss to his lips, Ginny reaches across his chest and grabs his mobile as it begins vibrating with another call, answering on the third ring while Harry gapes helplessly, pinned beneath her strategically placed knees and elbows.

"Harry Potter's phone," Ginny chirps.

"Well shite, did the kid get himself a bird?" Harry hears Sirius bark out, laughing _entirely_ too hard.

Ginny sits back, knees still pinning Harry's arms to his sides while she perches on his middle. "No birds here I'm afraid, but I _am_ his girlfriend and you _are_ interrupting."

Mouth dropping open, Harry widens his eyes at Ginny, who's still entirely unintimidated as Sirius' laugh sounds on the other end. "I like you so far Miss?"

" _Doctor_ Weasley," Ginny corrects, fingers spearing through Harry's messy locks.

"Even better."

Smirking triumphantly, Ginny lets out a chuckle, "Thank you, Mr.?"

"Black, Sirius Black."

"Well Black, Sirius Black," Ginny parrots, "You seem awfully important to Harry, given the fact that I had to wrestle him to the mattress to keep him from answering the door."

"My godson is _finally_ making some good life choices," Sirius laughs.

Ginny raises her brows threateningly at Harry as she releases his arms, allowing him to sit up and wrap them around her middle. The kiss he presses to her pulse point leaves her a little breathless as she answers, "Well Godfather, we'd like to have a bit of a lie in, but how about an early supper? The three of us."

Pausing his ministrations, Harry pulls away, brow quirked and Ginny mirrors his expression, realizing he might not be too chuffed about her planning his day and inserting herself into it – and maybe he sees her face cloud because he leans close to her non-phone covered ear and whispers, "You sure you're up for Sirius Black?"

She doesn't respond at first, nodding along as Sirius apparently gives his lunch requirements and signs off, then tosses Harry's phone toward the foot of the bed. "Hope I didn't overstep."

Harry's hands slip under her shirt and caress her spine rather distractingly. "Nah, just concerned that Sirius'll scare you off."

"I'm tough stuff," Ginny scoffs, "Did you forget about my six brothers?"

He tilts his head in acquiescence and Ginny goes on, "Plus crazy Aunt Muriel _and_ Phlegm."

She's already pushing him back into the pillows when Harry asks, "Do I want to know who 'Phlegm' is?"

Slanting her mouth over his Ginny doesn't answer for a moment, and Harry doesn't seem too disappointed, but she still pulls a breath away, letting her hands wander teasingly, "Maybe talk about that _later_?"

Harry nods emphatically and pulls her back down, grinning, "Much later."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I know it's been soooo long since I updated (or at least it feels that way). But it somehow felt like I ended up with a bunch of WIPs and absolutely no idea where to go with them AH.

For this one, I now think I'll probably go another few chapters. No more than 10 (total). If you have any requests for stuff you'd like to see, please let me know! Obviously family meetings and such but if you have any specific things you want to have happen I'll try and work them in :)

This is a bit shorter than the last couple but I thought short and something was better than waiting more!

* * *

After taking _full_ advantage of their shared morning off, Harry and Ginny eventually pry themselves from the bed and pick over his slim selection of food – it really is time for a shop – and recognize they _do_ in fact have evening plans.

When Harry mentions it, Ginny sighs into her coffee, " _Gross_ – I mean no offense but."

"You're the one who made the plans, Gin," Harry points out, pressing a lingering kiss behind her ear, "Otherwise we could've spent all day _getting to know_ each other."

"You're the one with people who _care_ about you," Ginny grumbles, fingers scratching at his scalp, urging him to continue his activities.

He nips at her jawline, "Don't be jealous one of mine figured us out first."

Pulling him down for a heady kiss, Ginny nearly loses track of everything except the delicious press of his lips, his hands broad and strong along her neck, their mingling breaths, until Harry finally breaks away. "I'll come pick you up?"

"Isn't it a bit out of the way?" Ginny smirks, kissing him once, twice, three times, lingering on the last so Harry has to blink away the haze.

Still, he manages a wink, "Not when I'm trying to be gallant."

Shoving his shoulder playfully, Ginny rises to her feet, re-cuffing the too long borrowed sweats that bunch at her ankles and grabbing her things where Harry'd neatly piled them at the foot of his bed while she showered. "I should be off then – I _do_ have a life."

"I thought you were just my personal doctor," Harry laughs, walking with her the short distance to the door, "And part time _voyeur_."

Ginny presses her back to the door and tugs on his shirt collar so she can murmur against his lips, "You're an exhibitionist. I can't help if I get caught in the crossfire."

"Maybe leave that bit out when Sirius asks how we met," Harry laughs.

"I dunno," Ginny muses, running her fingers along his shoulders, "He seems like the type who'd be proud you used your bod to get a woman."

Harry tips his head back laughing, warm and bright. "So it comes out, then – just with me for my body."

"S'not your ability to avoid physical mishaps, Mr. Clumsy," Ginny teases, kissing him once, short and sweet before twisting the door open and slipping into the hall. "See you later, yeah?"

He manages to lure her back to him with a few lingering kisses that devolve into a corridor snog that has Mrs. Benning clutching her shopping bags to her chest with a harrumph, but eventually lets Ginny depart for her own flat.

After she's gone, his feels strangely empty in a way it never has before, and he only manages it for the quarter of an hour it takes to tidy the kitchen and put away the freshly cleaned dishes before he's searching the flat for his mobile.

Definitively, he selects his most recent caller and Sirius answers on the third ring, "Godson."

"Man who wants to ruin my life," Harry replies immediately, tone just as dry.

"You Potters love your drama," Sirius sighs, "That's exactly what your father said in sixth year when I so lovingly arranged a special date for him and your mum."

Harry plops on the couch and gets a whiff of Ginny's perfume, almost losing himself in the scent. He clears his throat and gathers his thoughts. "The way _I_ hear it, you set up a date neither knew about that ended with only one set of full eyebrows, lost car keys, and a lifetime ban from a restaurant."

"You forget the part where they live happily ever after," Sirius, "Their mutual frustration with _me_ was a real bonding point."

"Frustration's not exactly how dad puts it," Harry laughs, eyes wandering toward the window, where he can see Ginny's drawn curtains. _Learned a lesson, I suppose_.

"So, this bird," Sirius prompts.

" _Ginny_ ," Harry corrects, "The _doctor_."

"I hope you appreciate the fact that I'm _not_ teasing you with that information," Sirius answers, "Because I could do _so_ much with you and a doctor and the bedroom."

"I don't think spelling it out instead of coming up with a joke counts as self-control," Harry laughs, "Just _lazy_."

"Take it back."

"Sometimes I can't believe you could've ended up my legal guardian."

"I'm very responsible," Sirius sniffs, "When I have to be."

Ginny's curtains slide open and she peaks from behind confirming that Harry's there before tossing her borrowed t-shirt across her living room and exposing a bare shoulder with a flip of her hair. Harry's mouth goes dry.

"Alright, baby Potter?"

After Harry hums incoherently Sirius chuckles, "You should've waited to call 'til she was gone."

Clearing his throat, Harry answers, "She is."

"Oh, wow kid. You're welcome for not calling your mum and dad with this one," Sirius says, "You've got to get yourself under control."

"How long's my reprieve?" Harry asks, voice pitching higher as Ginny tosses her sweats, sticks one leg out and twirling it before she pulls the curtain closed entirely.

Sirius barks a laugh and pauses for a moment. "Give 'em a ring before we go out tonight – then your mum can't be _too_ mad."

Harry begins puttering around, gathering his discarded clothes strewn throughout the flat and tossing them in the direction of his laundry basket. He pauses to sniff a mysterious pair of socks. "We both know dad's light years more invested my love life."

Sirius hums, "Hopeless romantic he is."

They're silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts while Harry does his laundry and Sirius does – whatever he does. But Harry breaks first with a sigh. "I'll phone them, just _casually_ mention it."

"Casual sleepovers eh?"

" _Bye_ Sirius."

* * *

Harry flicks his turn signal while Ginny shifts her hand to rest on his knee. "Have you realized I'm meeting your godfather before we've gone on an actual date?"

Brake lights glow up ahead and they come to a halt a few blocks away from the restaurant. "We haven't exactly been traditional about anything yet. Hate to break the pattern."

Snorting, Ginny lets her head fall back against the seat and tilts her gaze toward Harry. "S'pose not. D'you think he'll like me alright?"

"Maybe more than me," Harry says with a laugh, "And I _did_ end up chatting with mum and dad today."

"How'd that go," Ginny asks, scratching at the seam of his jeans nervously. Taking one hand from the wheel, Harry squeezes her chilled fingers.

"Dad was a bit put off that Sirius found out first," Harry shoots a grin at her, "But they're just happy I've got someone."

"So you just said 'hello parents I have a girlfriend' and they just said 'ok great?'"

He rolls down the window, pressing the button for the parking stub before he turns to Ginny, "I gave some basics – who you are, what you do for work – "

"But not how we met, I presume," Ginny laughs.

Stopping his search for a spot, Harry leans across the console and presses a long, slow kiss to Ginny's lips, then brushes his nose along hers. "I figured it might be in everyone's best interest to keep the specifics of those circumstances between us."

Ginny shoves at his shoulder and he takes the instruction, inching along at a snail's pace in search of a spot. "Our _honeymoon phase_ PDA will surely be disgusting enough."

Whipping into a free space on the third level, Harry twists the car off so the low hum of the radio is the only sound apart from the indistinct sounds of the city outside. "We're cute."

"Blegch," Ginny groans, sticking her tongue out at Harry childishly.

He flicks the tip of her wrinkled nose and pulls the keys from the ignition. "To be fair, we haven't had much of the 'public' in PDA."

Carefully, Ginny slips out in the tiny space between Harry's car and the shiny black something parked entirely too close to the white line. "Except poor Chapman."

As Ginny rounds the back of the car, Harry extends his hand and guides them toward the lift leading to the ground floor. "Just the once – and technically we weren't in public."

The laughter hasn't left Ginny's lips before a familiar drawl sounds from the sidewalk outside the garage. "I always knew Potter men had a type."

Harry punches the newcomer's shoulder, "S'not even the same shade of red. Sirius, this is Ginny. Ginny this is – "

"Sirius Black," the man himself says, oozing with charm as he offers his hand, "Lovely to meet you _Dr_. Weasley."

Ginny quirks a brow and squeezed his palm, "Ginny's fine, Mr. Black."

"So's Sirius."

They stay frozen like that for a moment, hands locked together and Harry's eyes darting to and fro helplessly before he finally clears his throat, "Is this some weird pissing contest or?"

Sirius doesn't tear his eyes away from Ginny's, "Nah, we're sizing each other up."

"I don't lose," Ginny says simply, a smirk tilting her lips as her hand squeezes his a bit tighter.

Another breath and Sirius releases her, glancing at Harry with a grin, "I concede – she's alright."

Linking her arm through Sirius' Ginny steers them toward the restaurant. "Y'know Harry, you built him up a lot for a man who can't hack it in a simple battle of wills."

Sirius glances across toward Harry, "That was a _clear_ concession."

"Was it though?" Harry questions as he grabs the door and gestures them inside, "Because all I saw was you chickening out less than a minute in."

Harry breaks away to check their reservation and Sirius pats Ginny's knuckles. "He seems happy."

"I hope so – it's early yet," Ginny says, hesitant.

Pulling her along as Harry waves them over, Sirius squeezes her arm, "I've got a good feeling about you two. And I'm never wrong."


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: BEEN A WHILE but I did it, I'm thinking maybe a couple more chapters?

On the agenda is a Weasley meeting, possibly a game?, and I think Ginny needs to actually meet Jily.

Any other requests?

* * *

"Why the sudden motivation to help me weed the garden?" Lily asks once they're well and truly up to their elbows in soil, "Not that I'm complaining."

Harry laughs, clumsily nudging his glasses back up with his wrist. "Can't I just want to spend my free day with my beloved mum?"

Lily squints at him from beneath her wide brimmed hat and prods his knee with her spade, "Don't lie to me – I've been married to your dad for – " she frowns, "A very long time."

"I'm telling – he's going to be devastated you forgot."

"You're an ungrateful son," Lily grumbles, rising from her squat to drag the fertilizer bags closer, "Who didn't tell when you hated his gumbo attempt?"

"I'm about to stick my hands in literal _shite_ for you, mum," Harry smirks, grabbing the opposite end of the bag so they can waddle it closer to the flowerbed. He'd learned about halfway through primary school that Lily Evans-Potter was not a fan of being coddled, and apparently offering to lift a twenty-something kilogram bag for your mum counts as coddling.

"Something to do with this mystery woman?" she tears the bag open and wrinkles her nose a bit, "Sirius seemed to like her well enough."

Harry grins, "Yeah, he did – it went well," Harry swipes the sweat from his brow, "Except for the bit where I lied and said none of you knew how we met."

"Oh Harry," Lily groans, her head dropping to his shoulder so the brim of her hat bends backward, "Why do Potter men have such a knack for making messes."

"It's a gift," Harry sighs, "I don't even know _why_ I lied – she'd probably think it was funny that I'm a complete mum's boy who can't keep a secret."

Lily presses a kiss to his cheek, "Yes, and mummy loves her little train wreck of a son."

" _Our_ train wreck of a son," James drawls from the deck, hands tucked in his trouser pockets, "You didn't get him to this point without my help."

"Of course not," Harry snorts, "I really enjoy coming over so you can argue who gets credit for making me a mess of a human being."

James locks his arm around Harry's neck and kisses his temple sloppily. "You're our mess and we love you," he glances at Lily where she's propped her hip against her worktable, "What's he done this time?"

Harry scoffs, "' _This_ time' – guess who's not getting free labor anymore."

"He told his lady-love that we don't know how they met," Lily responds, unruffled by her son's ever-empty threat.

Sighing, James leans into Lily's side and shakes his head. "My son the streaker."

"I was in my own bloody flat," Harry grumbles, but he drops to the soft sod and leans back on his open palms. "So what do I do?"

* * *

After his day off, Harry's week is a blur of practice, training, press junkets, and hazily partaking in basic self-care. The high moments, in all honesty, are his stolen moments rinsing in his too-warm shower and flirtatious texts with Ginny between her shifts and his. It's a bit disconcerting, knowing someone for such a short time and yet having your chest ache with the separation of a few days.

He switches the light off after scrubbing the last of his minimal dishes and spies Ginny across the atrium as she lets herself into her low-lit flat. A smile steals across his face and he's tugging his mobile from his pocket, already lighter at the thought of her so close.

 **Harry** : are you still a peeping tom if the person has showered in your flat

There's a pause, but he sees her fumble around her oversized purse for her phone and pull it free as she kicks off her trainers.

 **Ginny** : if you have to ask

 **Ginny** : you're a peeping tom

 **Harry** : rude

 **Harry** : now I'm not inviting you over

She doesn't answer for a bit and Harry's nerves spike, because as much as he knows she _likes_ him, it's still new enough that he's not – half the time it feels like he'll _never_ be sure. But so far this is the closest he's ever gotten. Which is why the pause is killing him.

He's torn between keeping his eyes pinned to the blue light and looking to try and actually _see_ her reaction, but apparently he's got no impulse control when it comes to Dr. Ginny Weasley, so he steps closer and practically has his nose pressed to the glass when he drops his phone.

And she's standing there, in a tight Henley and wrinkled scrubs, and he can mostly make out her playful grin. That one she wears when she shakes her head wryly and murmurs _Harry James_ , in that way that sends his pulse skyrocketing.

 **Ginny** : hard up for company?

 **Harry** : not yet ;)

 **Ginny** : I thought we agreed no sexting

 **Harry** : let the record show you said 'no sexting at work'

 **Harry** : do you need a screen shot for proof or

 **Ginny** : If I come snog you will this vomit-like flirting end

 **Harry** : That's a pretty rotten thing to say

 **Harry** : maybe I don't want to snog anymore

 **Ginny** : sure Jan

 **Ginny** : have a nice night

 **Ginny** : alone

 **Ginny** : ;)

Their eyes lock as heatedly as is possible through two panes of glass and however many meters of space between them and Ginny apparently sees something in his expression that has her relenting with a short nod.

She slides her curtains closed and Harry's left to wait, keeping himself busy with banal things like fluffing pillows – she's turning him into a prat – until he realizes he should probably brush his teeth or at least gargle a bit before they –

Even if it's _not_ a snogging event, he _did_ have a rather garlic heavy dinner. So he scrubs his teeth 'til he looks rabid and by the time he's rinsing, two short raps sound at the door.

He fumbles his toothbrush back into the holder and trips over his own feet on the way to the entryway. Taking a steadying breath, he flicks the lock and wraps his hand around the knob only to hear her quiet whisper from the other side, "Alright in there Potter? Shall I call the fire brigade?"

Laughter bubbling on his lips, Harry swings the door open, nervousness forgotten. "You're a cheeky little thing."

"Yes. It's my brand. Cheeky, red headed, sporting enthusiast," she blinks at him, "This is not news."

Harry guides her inside and presses his lips to hers, the door clicking shut under his palm. "I've missed you."

Ginny hums, "It's only been a _ah_ few days."

Pulling away, Harry brushes his nose along hers and smiles softly. "Well you should know by now; I've got a thing for cheeky, red-headed, sporting enthusiasts."

With a smile, Ginny cups his jaw with her hand, thumb stroking his cheek gently as she laughs, "You tease, but you're sweet too you know."

He ducks his head and toys with the hem of her t-shirt. "Don't let it get around, yeah?"

"Of course not," Ginny smirks, leading him toward the living room and claiming her spot on the couch like it's a throne, "We're already beating off the suitors as you are."

Harry drops down next to her, close enough that her arm spans his shoulders, so he leans into her side. "'S true. I'm a rather eligible bachelor."

"Some paperwork filed away in a little HR hovel at the club might call that into question," Ginny murmurs, weaving her fingers through his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp.

He moans a bit, forehead pressed into the crook of her neck. "Keep that up and there'll be no doubt."

"You're like a large, often naked cat," Ginny teases, kissing his forehead.

"I was naked _one time_ ," Harry groans.

Ginny pokes and prods him until they adjust so he's tucked between her legs, her head pillowed against the armrest. "That's a lie – and hopefully will continue to be so," Ginny blinks at the telly as the screen flicks brighter with some advertisement for laundry detergent, "Though current doctor's orders are for a quiet cuddle."

Sighing, Harry nuzzles closer, "I accept – _for now_."

* * *

Sometime during the night, they do manage to migrate to Harry's bed, Ginny's left arm a bit useless with pins and needles – which becomes less annoying when Harry decides to kiss it better.

Luckily, Harry still has the presence of mind to set a good few alarms for the morning, which will hopefully counteract Ginny's charms by early light. When his third alarm – WAKE UP YOU PILLOCK – sounds, Ginny groans and fumbles for his phone, which involves almost putting Harry's eye out.

She presses soft, _tempting_ kisses along his jawline as her fingers run along his ribcage. "What would it take to convince you not to get up?"

"Ten a.m. Ginny would definitely not say that."

Humming sleepily, Ginny kisses his shoulder. "Well _she_ won't be up for at least three hours."

With a low chuckle, Harry slants his mouth over hers, warm, hot, and entirely too short for either of their liking. "Well I wish I could wait around for her, but I've got a contract."

Ginny flops onto her back dramatically and growls, "Seven a.m. Ginny is not happy."

"I'll be sure to make it up to seven _p.m._ Ginny, then."

"Make it up to me now – give us a little show, yeah?" Ginny murmurs, propping her hands behind her head and wriggling her brows.

"Gotta leave you wanting more," Harry drawls, grabbing his sweats and disappearing into the loo before Ginny's pillow-turned-projectile reaches the doorway. " _Wanker_."

* * *

Sweat slips down Harry's spine as the afternoon sun beats on his shoulders, calling freckles to the surface and leaving him pink and sore. He winces, shins barking halfway through his third bear crawl across the field, and fights the urge to drop onto his stomach and pray for death.

Because those supplications will forever fall on deaf ears and Wood's 'all for one and one for all' punishments would have Harry in the doghouse for at least a month. On the fifth lap, when Harry's truly beginning to wonder whether his 'mind over matter' abilities are going to be rendered useless by noodles for legs.

Luckily, Wood blows his whistle shrilly and Harry and the rest of the team fall down on the meticulously cut grass. Harry lets out a groan and Stebbins falls down next to him and sighs. "He's going to kill me. He is _really_ going to kill me."

Snorting, Harry drapes his arm over his face. "Probably, yes."

"Think your girlfriend will play nursemaid?"

And the lascivious way Stebbins murmurs the query suddenly has energy flooding Harry's body, but he manages to bite back on the urge to verbally eviscerate his former sort of friend. Instead he tilts his head sideways and scowls, "She's a doctor."

The words are innocuous enough, but from the way Stebbins pales, Harry's fairly certain he's got his point across.

Slowly, Harry rolls on his side and works his way to his feet, loping toward the locker room, when Finnegan jogs up next to him. Harry grins, swiping at the dirt smudged along his chin. "I hate you for having energy."

Seamus laughs, "Seemed to have enough back there," he tilts his head toward the field where Harry'd had his _conversation_ with Stebbins.

"Temporary burst of something or other," Harry shrugs, grinning rakishly before picking up his pace to claim the showerhead with the best water pressure. Because if Stebbins beats him there, he might _actually_ make good on his nonverbal threats, which would mean split knuckles and probably a write up.

Luckily for everyone concerned, Harry doesn't miss his favorite shower spot and rinses the sweat and grime from his body while the rest of the team filters in and out, verbal sparring and teasing japes still the order of the day despite their overtired limbs.

Despite his enjoyment of the steady spray against his body, Harry doesn't linger longer than necessary and towels off quickly enough before he shoves his things in his duffle and studiously avoids eye contact with anyone who looks like they might want to chat. T-minus one hour until Ginny – he's not in the mood to dawdle.

Or at least he's not until he's in his flat waiting for their take out to arrive and he realizes he's got to tell Ginny he lied. "Buggering hell."

A knock sounds at the door and Harry strides from the bedroom to answer, and spies Ginny through the peephole, flushed and smiling and gorgeous.

He swings the door open and Ginny's mouth is on his before he can voice a greeting, though her arms don't wrap around his neck and he's a bit disappointed; though not enough to break away.

But she does, smiling breathlessly, "I ran into the delivery boy downstairs," she raises two overfull paper sacks, the deliciously spiced contents already whetting Harry's appetite.

Grabbing one bag, Harry leads the way toward the kitchen and laughs, "And the kid just surrendered my meal to a strange woman?"

"I have _wiles_ , and I told him you were my boyfriend."

"God help the man," Harry drawls.

"I guessed the contents exactly," Ginny adds simply, "Save the eggrolls. Someone's trying to buy my affections."

Harry tears down the side of both bags, pulling each box from inside. "Free doughnuts – I think they still assume I'm eating alone and they feel bad."

They work in tandem, arranging the boxes around Harry's small kitchen table. Ginny grabs two lagers from the fridge and pops them open with twin _fizzes_ and climbs into her seat, one leg tucked beneath her as she claims the spicy street noodles with a warning glance for Harry.

Popping his own container open, Harry plunges his chopsticks in and draws a bite out. "See if I share my beef with broccoli."

"Ew. No thanks."

Harry snorts and takes another mouthful. "You ate half last time – maybe you _were_ a bit comatose."

"People do crazy things when they're overtired."

He slides his container onto a free spot on the table and takes a long sip of his beer, gaze lingering on Ginny's as he smirks. "You calling me a 'crazy thing'?"

Ginny snorts, "And you say _I'm_ cheeky."

"One doesn't negate the other," Harry says simply, crunching on an eggroll. But he sobers, "I do – there is – before we go any further with whatever this – " he gestures between them, "is – "

"Foreplay disguised as witty banter?" Ginny supplies lightly.

He shakes his head, "No I – I lied."

Ginny's grin falters a little, her gaze more probing than before, more hesitant than he's seen her – _ever_. "Enlighten me then?"

"I – I _did_ tell my parents how we met," Harry blurts finally, ducking his head.

She blinks at him, once, twice, and he's not sure but he might be moments from death. Until she lets out an incredulous laugh and _doesn't_ dump her dinner in his lap. "That's it."

He nods.

"God – you were acting like you had a secret family in the Alps or – "

"I didn't _mean_ to lie – I don't even know why I did I just," he shrugs, "I guess I got scared and a little embarrassed? Both times, when I told them and then when I said I didn't."

"You're kind of a mess, eh?"

Harry ruffles his hair and chuckles softly. "Yeah. Now's a good opportunity to get out."

There's a pause and Ginny shakes her head, biting back a smile. "Nah, too much paperwork involved."


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: WOO. Maybe only one more chapter after this? Let me know what you think of this one :)

Thank you so much speedsONEandONLY GinnyPotter6891 scrappy8 matrixaffiliate poser16 DancingStars45 riversgirl75, you made me laugh and smile with your reviews!

* * *

"I _can_ drive you know," Ginny laughs into her phone, tucking it between her cheek and shoulder, frowning down at the crisp apples in her hands.

"Never said you couldn't, Gin," Harry answers, turn signal clicking in the background, "Excuse me for wanting to spend an extra hour or two with my _girlfriend_."

Slipping the firmer of the two fruits into one of the provided plastic bags, Ginny tucks it away with the rest of her shopping and heads for the checkout aisles, when a display of fresh flowers catches her eye. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder and such."

"I'm already halfway there," Ginny reasons, the slight fudge of the truth not _quite_ making her feel guilty. Though it does come close.

"We could carpool from wherever you are – where _are_ you?"

"I'm not leaving my car in some random lot," Ginny answers absent, eyeing the blooms in front of her, "Harry what flowers does your mum like best?"

And before Harry can respond – not that it was coming quickly, given the blustering he'd barely paused – a warm voice answers from over her shoulder. "She likes anything but carnations – or lilies."

Ginny turns slowly, not hearing whatever Harry's saying on the phone, and her gaze darts over the man standing just to her left – the mess of dark hair, laughing eyes, glasses that sit _just_ a bit crooked on his nose, stubborn jut of a chin – and then she raises her brows and turns her attention back to Harry on the phone. "I'll see you later Harry."

She pauses before facing her new acquaintance fully and he's got that slant of a grin she's well on the way to falling in love with on a slightly different face. "Ginny I presume?"

"Mr. Potter."

He winces, fingers drumming on the handle of his trolley like he's incapable of keeping still. "James'll do. Lily will say the same, but calling her doctor to start off couldn't hurt."

"See, this is why I came to do pre-dinner research," Ginny laughs, "Harry doesn't have all these beautiful tidbits."

"Lily and I have known each other for – " he squints, "A very long time – excuse the vagary but I avoid maths at all costs."

Ginny hums, "Seems to be a Potter trait. Now help me pick a bouquet for your lovely wife and then I want every adorably embarrassing piece of Harry trivia we can pack into the next," she glances at her phone, "Two hours?"

* * *

Their first stop after selecting a bouquet – sunflowers, Gypsy dianthus, and bear grass – is a local bakery Harry apparently loved at first sight when it opened the summer after kindergarten. "So what was his favorite? He's got a thing for treacle tart now."

They shift forward with the line and James nods at the teenager working the till before answering, "He's always loved treacle tart, but it was the Chelsea buns that had him outgrowing his trousers."

Ginny chuckles as the bell chimes over the door, admitting another herd of customers preparing the easy way for dessert, and leans sideways to view the bake case. "Well we can't deprive him tonight, yeah?"

Once they've loaded themselves down with entirely too many baked goods for the four of them after what promises to be a full supper, James leads Ginny out of the shop and meanders aimlessly down the cobbled sidewalk. "So you came early to snoop."

"Not snoop – just," Ginny shrugs, "I'm just curious and I finished work early and – "

"Harry's a bit of a closed book," James puts in, "I know my son. It's nothing personal."

An elderly man passes with a little fluffy nothing of a dog, grinning at James as he goes, "James, m'boy – another red head?"

"She's a legitimate ginger though, wouldn't you say?" James laughs, "Lily's is darker," he grins at Ginny and drops a warm hand on her shoulder, "This is Ginny – but if Harry asks, you didn't see us."

Miming zipping his lips, the man wriggles his brows and salutes, "Mum's the word, James. Ms. Ginny."

Ginny bites her lip and waves as the odd moment passes, until she's alone with James again. "He's so – "

"Odd? Yeah," he ruffles his hair and looks so like Harry she almost forgets to listen as he continues, "He loves Harry – keeps clippings of all his news articles and such."

"When did this start – I need little chubby baby Harry photos," Ginny prods his shoulder, "Pronto."

Pausing near what Ginny presumes is his little coup of a car, red and shiny in the setting sun, James smiles affectionately, "Well if you'll let me liberate you of your parcels, I can tell you where a veritable treasure trove of young Harry themed paraphernalia is located."

"He's gonna kill you," Ginny muses thoughtfully, carefully shifting the bouquet in her arms.

James shrugs, "Eh, it's a miracle I made it past twenty-one."

"That's pretty specific."

"I decided to try base jumping as a hobby – Lily put the fear of God into me with a few horror stories from the news," James shrugs, "Plus finding out I had a little one on the way didn't hurt."

"Sports star _and_ life saver," Ginny chuckles as James unlocks the car and pops the boot open, "What a bloke."

Once James has gently lifted the flowers from her arms and laid them across the back seat, he turns back to her and leans on the open car door, fingers drumming absently on the metal rim. "Head over to the little primary two streets down."

"Is it safe to assume it's the _only_ primary in – "

"Probably in about fifty klicks in any direction," James snorts, "I'll hide the bouquet in my study and hand them off to you when it's an opportune moment."

Ginny narrows her eyes, weighing her options, but she relents, "I'll defer to your mischievous expertise this time. But if things go south, I'm throwing you over."

Slipping into the driver's seat, James winks at Ginny as he pulls the door shut with a slam, "Wouldn't have it any other way."

* * *

She does manage to find the squat little school fairly easily, wild flowers blooming in the front yard, a cobbled path leading toward the front entrance and around the sides, presumably toward some sort of outdoor play apparatus. The lot is empty, save a few cars with school pride and sports team stickers on the bumpers. It's only once she's reached the entrance that Ginny considers the very likely possibility that the schools' locked when a rather rotund man pushes the door open with a grin. "You must be Miss Weasley."

"I – er – yes. How did you?"

"James called over! That Lily's a firecracker. Always was," the man smiles, "And Harry. Well you know."

Ginny smiles, a bit hesitant but confident enough that she could rip the bloke a new one if he turns out to be a serial killer. But as far as she can tell, his biggest threats to her are chattiness and a bit of an overvaluation of fame, neither of which pose an imminent threat to her. And she really wants to see those pictures.

"I'm Horace Slughorn, by the way," he offers, bustling down the empty hall with Ginny in his wake. He stops his strides before a glass case and beams at her, "You'll be wanting to see what's in here. Looks familiar, eh?"

And sure enough, there's a little boy with a medal hung around his skinny little neck, wide grin and sparking green eyes she knows so well already. "Those cheeks."

Slughorn's belly comes very near bouncing when he chuckles along with Ginny, fingers tucking into the pockets of his entirely too posh for weekend working while he points out some of the highlights of Harry's early 'career'. "Always knew he'd be a great one – knew it with his mum too. And James is no slouch either. The Potter family's one to watch," he winks, "But you know that."

"So how did you know Harry's parents before?" Ginny asks, drowning out the click of their shoes against the tiled floors.

"Ah, Lily Evans – well _Potter_ now – she was a right little firecracker," he pauses outside what is presumably his classroom and fumbles through the keys on his ring before unlocking the door with a low thud. "One of the most promising young scientific minds I have ever seen. I almost retired not long after she graduated – but she told me about this post and I couldn't say no to those green eyes."

And before Ginny can respond or probe further, Slughorn settles in his chair with a squeak of the wheels and tugs a broad photo album from the largest drawer. "James said you'd like to see some more of young Harry."

Ginny grabs the folding chair tucked between two bookshelves off to the left and takes a seat at his elbow, "Yes. And any embarrassingly adorable stories you've got, please."

Slughorn pauses as he's flipping through the yellowed pages and smiles with a bit f mischief in his eyes, "Would a particular young man worrying himself to tears over a mouth full of baby teeth that just didn't seem to fall out fast enough qualify?"

"Oh we are going to be good friends, sir."

* * *

Luckily, Ginny remembered to set a reminder on her phone before they settled in with Slughorn's collection of little future history-makers because she's quite caught off guard when it chimes on the half hour and nearly upsets her tea. With a grateful farewell and promises to return for more stories at a later date, Ginny's soon in her car and following the tinny directions to the Potter cottage projected from her phone. The cobbled streets turn to dirt roads the further she gets from town, her destination about twenty minutes from the village center and the school. Until, finally, Ginny pulls up in front of a beautifully wild garden, the slate path cutting through soft green grasses and leading to a bright red door centered on a stone cottage covered in years' worth of curling vines wrapping around the house almost as if holding it together just a bit tighter than the cement locked between each smooth grey rock.

Gravel crunches beneath her boots as she steps from the car, Harry's nowhere in sight quite yet so she pulls her mobile from the center console and sees a few messages bemoaning late running surprise meetings, a shirtless magazine spread to look forward to, and a distressed promise that he is coming despite train delays.

 **Ginny:** Be safe. Not to worry.

 **Harry:** There's a little bakery in town

 **Harry:** If you need something to kill time

 **Harry:** I shouldn't be more than a quarter of an hour

She smirks at his mention of the bakery and ponders her options, debating when revealing her chance meeting with one James Potter will be most satisfying. And eventually decides she'd like to see or at least hear his reaction.

 **Ginny:** I'll be alright. Your parents are already waving me in

 **Harry:** No

 **Harry:** Don't go in without me

 **Ginny:** They have cookies

 **Ginny:** your mum's literally waving a tray of biscuits at me

 **Harry:** Haven't you heard of Hansel and Gretel

 **Ginny:** See you in a bit ;)

Once she's slipped her phone back into her purse, Ginny waves with a cheeky green and locks the car behind her. She waits 'til she's closer to greet the Potters further. "Harry's running a tad late."

The woman – presumably Lily, given her wide emerald eyes and shimmering auburn waves just brushing her shoulders, lets out a laugh, "I'd love to say I'm shocked."

James smirks, "Harry's many things – prompt is not one of them."

"He is a bit terrible with time," Ginny agrees while Lily pulls her in with a hug that smells of vanilla and spice.

"We're so glad to finally meet you."

"Lovely to meet you as well, Dr. Evans," Ginny smiles while James winks at her over Lily's shoulder.

"Lily's more than alright, and James will do for him," Lily says when she pulls away, aiming a thumb in James' direction as she leads the little parade into the house. James reaches around Lily's arm and snatches two biscuits, passing one back to Ginny and crunching into his own.

"Since Harry's not here, I'll just go snatch those flowers from my office, eh?"

After James splits off down another shallow hallway, Ginny trails Lily down the egg shell blue hall and into the kitchen where a deliciously spiced something or other simmers on the hob.

"Hope you like spicy," Lily offers as she places the biscuits back on the counter and gestures for Ginny to take a seat at the bar top, "Harry loves James' gazpacho – even when he was a little one."

"Little round-cheeked Harry with his spicy dishes, buns, and missing teeth," Ginny sighs, "What a day."

Lily chuckles, fond, and dips two spoons into the pot, covering it again before the steam finishes rising past the dark wood cabinets. "James mentioned you'd been off to see Slughorn. He's quite the character."

"Don't s'pose he's got pictures you don't though, yeah?"

Passing one spoon to Ginny as she licks hers clean, "You weren't after photos though, not quite."

Ginny hums around her spoon, hunger rising at the tease of a taste. "Something different about getting to know someone indirectly."

"Brilliant, devious girl. No wonder he likes you," Lily says after a moment, swiping a biscuit and brushing the crumbs from her mouth.

"Reminds him of his mum, I bet," James offers, returning with sunflowers and vase in hand. He presses a kiss to Lily's cheek, "Any aspirin for the water?"

"Medicine chest in the loo."

James re-emerges with two tablets in hand and drops them into the water before slipping the bouquet into the delicate green glass and setting it in the middle of the cozily set dining table. "Harry'd better get here soon or I'm eating his share."

"I'll fight you for it," Ginny laughs while Lily gestures questioningly with a bottle of white wine, earning an encouraging grin.

They each claim a plush seat in the living room, the Potters more than willing to offer up stories Harry would certainly veto were he here. When Ginny's phone vibrates for the fifth time, she finally rises and shuffles through her purse to grab the call, still wiping away tears from a particularly well acted re-creation of Harry's first attempt at a slip 'n' slide. "So sorry, I'm not even on – Harry?"

"Is someone coming to get me?"


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: THE FINAL CHAPTER. Though I'm pretty positive I will at some point revisit this universe for something or other idk what. It's v long and full of fluffy and some things I hadn't even planned on. Today was a good day for me and I hope this makes yours a little better :)

Thank you so much for reading this fic :) I've had so much fun getting your ideas and squeeing with everyone about hinny being adorable 3 3

* * *

Ginny's already halfway to the door when Lily grabs her arm and smacks James' rear, "Go get our son, eh? You already got your time with Ginny."

James complies and Ginny reclaims her seat on the couch, and Lily refreshes their drinks before doing the same. "So, sports medicine?"

Nodding, Ginny settles back against the cushions, more at ease when Lily tucks her legs beneath herself and smiles kindly, inviting her to elaborate. "I was a bit of a en fanatic when I was young, out in the yard juggling the ball between my feet from sun up 'til sundown if I had my way. By the time I was in secondary school, I was fairly certain I would go professional – I started getting scouted when I was sixteen."

Lily offers Ginny the dwindling plate of biscuits and takes a small sip of her drink. "So where did medicine come in?"

"I'd always been good with it – science in general – but I figured I'd just do something simpler for a degree and focus on sport," Ginny shrugs, "Then I tore my ACL – "

Wincing empathetically, Lily asks, "And sports med was your closest link to what you loved?"

The idea gives Ginny pause. It's a bit odd that she's never really thought of things this deeply before, almost like her life had been a puzzle that finally fit together at that point, the summer before she turned eighteen, and she was afraid to question it lest it slip through her fingers. But when she does turn the idea over in her mind, it's like she knew the answer all along. "I guess, in part. But I think seeing that side of medicine, how you could save someone's dream or give them a better life than they thought possible – it felt more right than playing ever did," her grin is soft when she murmurs, "So even when I had the chance to go back – I wasn't even waiting for it anymore."

A smile ticks up the corner of Lily's mouth. "I was that nerdy kid who asked for anatomy books and chemistry sets for Christmas and birthdays – the cardio decision came later," they're both quiet for a time, pleasantly lost in the past until Lily sets her glass down and her eyes – so like Harry's it's almost like looking into his – twinkle with mischief. "I suppose we should take advantage of the next handful of minutes to get as much Harry gossip out as possible though, yeah?"

Which is how Harry and James find them, eyes teary, cheeks red, and bellies sore with laughter that only grows louder when he enters the room. He turns to James, a silent question on his lips but receives nothing more than a helpless shrug. "Contrary to popular belief, _I_ am not the troublemaker in this family."

"I know that – how could you leave them alone?" Harry groans, "Thanks for nothing, Dad."

James' eyes find Ginny's, laughter already on his lips when she collapses back against the couch, gripping her belly as her laugh rings throughout the room like the peal of a bell.

"I hate all of you," Harry grunts, dropping onto the couch next to Ginny so her wine nearly sloshes onto the soft fabric. When she turns to glare, he quirks a brow and swipes the glass away, stealing a few healthy swallows without breaking eye contact.

Lily and James take their cue to leave, the former running her fingers through Harry's hair comfortingly before pressing a kiss to the crown of his head and herding James into the kitchen.

After watching them disappear into the other room, Ginny lifts the glass from Harry's fingers and sets it on the side table before inching closer, one hand cupping the back of his neck while the other finds his knee. "I'm sorry we upset you."

He's still pouting when he glares, "I'm not _actually_ mad," she narrows her eyes and he blinks, "Mostly not."

Luckily, he forgets any potential grudges when Ginny pitches forward and presses her mouth against his, hand gripping his hair tighter while the free one slips up his chest. Groaning low in his throat, Harry deepens the kiss, pulling away to nip at her lips, sighing when her nails scratch at his scalp.

He's so lost in – _Ginny_ – that he's not entirely of sound mind and seriously considering letting his hands slip a bit higher, or lower, when a throat clears from the arched entryway. "Dinner's served, love birds."

* * *

Since he's not had driving duties during the day, Harry volunteers to take the responsibility majority of the drive home so long as Ginny makes M&Ms available at regular intervals. They're fairly quiet, comfortably so, until they breach the outer limits of Godric's Hollow and make it onto the main road that will take them home. "That went alright, didn't it? They seemed happy enough with me."

Harry's eyes dart over her way before returning to the road, yellow beneath the headlamps. "They loved you – though I'm not quite sure what the three of you did while I was away. Thick as thieves and altogether _disgusting_."

There's a moment where Ginny thinks he really _is_ unhappy with her, given that he's brought it up a second time, but she glances over and spots the smile tickling his lips. Which is good, because Harry being a little stuffy swot would not only be a surprising revelation, but also make her begin to question all that paperwork.

Leaning across the center console, Ginny presses a kiss to his cheek, "All good things, my dear."

The rest of the drive passes with more catching up, a few enthusiastic sing-alongs, and devouring an entire bag of M&Ms between them. Despite all the sugar coursing through their veins, or perhaps _because_ of, Harry and Ginny are rather zombie-like by the time he pulls into the garage and twists the ignition off.

As the car relaxes, aircon shutting down as the drips and creaks fill the silent cement catacomb, Harry drops his head back against the car seat. "I'm knackered."

Ginny hums and lets her head flop over toward him, blinks slow with sleepiness. "Me too – your parents are a couple of firecrackers."

Harry snorts and mirrors her position, reaching one hand across to toy with her fingers absently. "Imagine Christmas with them _and_ Sirius – s'lucky I had Remus."

Ginny's thumb brushes over the back of his hand. "I haven't met him yet."

"We've got too much family between us – it's a miracle we've made this much progress with introductions."

"Or we've got families with boundary issues," Ginny says with a smile, lifting his knuckles to her lips, lingering for a moment before she sits forward and grabs her purse, then unclicks her seatbelt. "Shall we go?"

Nodding tiredly, Harry similarly readies himself to brave the trip from the car to his flat, internally questioning whether it's worth it to attempt the trek or if he's better off taking his chances and camping out in the lobby.

Somehow, largely the product of Ginny's prodding he's not too proud to admit, Harry makes it onto the lift, propping his forehead against the wall while Ginny wraps her arms around his middle, her own forehead pressed between his shoulder blades. She presses a kiss there. "So tense."

He sighs, "Always am after a day of non-training work," his hands caress hers as the floors tick away with quiet beeps, "At the moment, I'm too tired to much care."

The doors slip open and Ginny tugs at the tail of his shirt, "Just stay at mine. It's closer."

After they stumble toward Ginny's door, she finds her back pressed against the waxy wood while Harry fumbles with her keys, more interested in continuing his lazy kisses along her jaw. Ginny wraps her arms around his neck, encouraging but soft. She sighs, "We're never going to get inside at this rate."

Harry laughs against her lips, smile turning into a triumphant grin when the key slides home and brings his body further in line with hers, a firm press that makes both wish they were in a less _open_ space. "Shows what you know."

They stumble back as Ginny pushes the door open, luckily recovering before bruised bottoms and sprained wrists are the order of the day. Laughing against his mouth, Ginny presses one, two, three, short chaste kisses to his lips before patting his chest and kicking off her shoes. "Bedtime, sleepyhead."

"Is that an invitation, madame?"

"It's doctor's orders," Ginny shoots back, shucking her jeans down her legs and leaving them in a heap, then doing the same with her jumper.

Harry toes off his trainers and tucks them against the wall, completing the work of untucking his shirt and working the buttons free. "Kinky."

"You wish – I _mean_ bedtime."

Divesting himself of his shirt and undershirt, Harry grabs Ginny's wrist and tugs her into the loo, "Brush our teeth and such, then perhaps a bit of something before 'bedtime'?"

Ginny pauses to spit, then gargles and spits again, before dropping her toothbrush into the holder and eyeing Harry. "How about I shower, as was my plan, and if you're still lucid when I'm finished we can do a 'bit of something.'"

Rinsing his mouth as well, Harry slides his hands around her waist and almost whines. "How about we _both_ shower?"

"I'm not getting in a slippery box of death with you this wiped."

Harry complies with Ginny's wishes and slumps off to the bedroom, though not before cheekily working his trousers down his legs, hips swinging in a playful sort of dance. Ginny tosses a flannel at his retreating back. "Off, you."

She doesn't dally in the shower, going about her business efficiently with her cozy bed and even cozier boyfriend in mind. And yet, all is as she suspected when she offered Harry the deal not more than a quarter of an hour earlier.

The surprise is more his utter and complete exhaustion, evident in the fact that he's still upright, feet on the floor, glasses on. All evidence of an individual still fully awake, contradicted only by the way his chin dips to his chest, eyes shut and spectacles slipping down his nose.

Luckily he hasn't pitched forward onto the carpet before Ginny arrived and she's able to usher him beneath the covers with minimal nonsensical murmurs before claiming her own place and weaving their legs together beneath the coverlet. They're both asleep before the bulbs have cooled in the bedside lamps.

Sadly, Harry's internal clock is cursed with regularity, and he wakes with the sun in need of the facilities and entirely too alert to lie still. Briefly, he considers rousing Ginny in a gentle, enjoyable manner – but only for a few short moments before he considers how much he wishes he could still be asleep. So he does his best to keep quiet as he putters about the house, avoiding the telly and any loud breakfast preparation methods. Harry finishes Ginny's half-done crossword over a bowl of some sort of crunch-sweet cereal that turns his milk chocolate, all the while noting the unbelievable tenseness of his muscles.

Of late, he's become rather complacent and spoiled in these matters, with Ginny more than ready to work her magic, but again, he's not waking her. Particularly not with the purpose of demanding a massage.

So he nudges the living room table aside and stretches his arms out to the sides, then overhead, and melts into a relatively good down dog, if he does say so himself. The set comes easily to his mind, cobbled together from actual yoga classes he's taken to perfectly warm and relax his body – and mind – within less than an hour. Halfway through, he's worked up enough of a sweat to warrant discarding his t-shirt in between poses.

Which is why he's tangled in said sweaty t-shirt when the door opens, why he stumbles over the crooked coffee table, why he ends up sprawled at the feet of a grinning red head with a crooked nose and Ginny's chin. A brother. Lovely.

The as yet unidentified brother laughs, "You're either the oddest burglar to exist, or Ginny's hosting a sleepover."

Harry blinks up at him, "Either way, you've interrupted my yoga session."

"Ron."

"Harry."

Ron eyes Harry as he rises, "You – oh. Okay, Harry _Potter_."

Harry taps his nose twice. "Got it in one."

"Good game last week," Ron says after a moment, still awkwardly hovering in the in between area, the grey space that allows travel between each segment of Ginny's flat.

Nodding his head, Harry accepts the thanks, while Ron sighs, "I do prefer the Canons, I'm not ashamed to say."

"You'd be the only one."

Ron raises his brows, then his barking laughter fills the room. "I'll go in and see Gin-Gin."

But Ginny's already woken, dragged her hair into a bun, and fully taken in the situation. It's an odd tableau, but she focuses her eyes on Harry, "I can't believe you interrupted Yoga Harry, Ron. I missed out on all the yummy."

While a flush rises on Harry's cheeks, Ron's own neck heats as he scowls at his sister, "Thanks. It's not yet ten in the morning and I already wish I was dead."

Shuffling into the kitchen, Ginny calls back over her shoulder, "Me too – go away."

The siblings continue their banter so Harry swipes at the sweat gathered at his temples before pulling his t-shirt back over his torso. Taking a few steps to suprass Ginny, he gently grabs at her clenching fist as the disagreement begins to tease the borders of friendly ribbing and eek into actual row territory.

Hoping to avert disaster, Harry pulls the pack of eggs from Ginny's fridge and sets it on the counter. He clears his throat, "I was going to make breakfast – if anyone's interested."

Both Ron and Ginny's glares turn on him, the former remaining somewhat angered while the latter softens. Still, it's Ron who speaks. "Alright, temporary stay of execution, pending the determination of the quality of breakfast."

Harry takes a relieved breath and Ginny rolls her eyes. But the disaster remains averted for the time being.

* * *

It's projected to be a warm, bright sunned day when Ginny finally gets to attend her first game as Harry's girlfriend, already laden with plans to meet up with James and Lily in the family box and enough fan gear for a small army.

When she wakes, it's well before the warm, bright sun projected to arrive and her bed is disappointingly empty and cold. Harry'd not wanted to mess with his pre-game rituals at the moment and spent the night in his own flat, though Ginny was fairly certain said rituals were just too embarrassing to whip out this early in a relationship.

Apparently, though, they've shared a bed often enough over the past however long that Harry's gone and ruined her beautiful internal clock that keeps her from waking until the sun is at least _nearing_ the horizon. Since she's awake and fairly certain the only person who's also awake is Harry, Ginny blearily fumbles for her mobile and flicks the charger free as she presses her thumb to the button to wake the black screen.

She'd not gone to bed particularly early the night before; Harry left around nine to begin his 'process' and she'd taken the opportunity to mindlessly binge some dark show about robots and google how to make an avocado mask without an avocado, and ended up wandering into bed close to midnight. Which means her notifications are almost nil, save a few ads from store's she rarely visits and a text from her mobile company about some new promotion they're running.

Harry's certainly awake, but he always waits for her to make first contact in the morning given their disparate morning routines, so she taps to open her messaging conversations and smiles softly at his emoji-laden goodnight text from the prior evening.

 **Ginny** : u ruined me

There's a long enough pause that Ginny has time to restlessly flop around in the bed, tangling blankets and sheets around her legs so she nearly spills over the edge. Until those little grey dots appear.

 **Harry** : I am a master in the bedroom

 **Ginny** : context clues. It's before seven and I'm awake.

Harry: I assume you're in bed. That's context

 **Ginny** : I am a champion sleeper

 **Ginny** : or I was

 **Ginny** : just know that your victory today is on the back of my destroyed sleep schedule

 **Harry** : I'm so very sorry

 **Harry** : how can I make it up to you

 **Harry** : I mean I have some ideas but

 **Ginny** : whipped cream

 **Harry** : oh my god

 **Ginny** : u asked

 **Ginny** : now go win ur game and maybe I'll flash the field

 **Harry** : or you could not

 **Harry** : in the interest of not getting fired

 **Ginny** : ah yes. The only real issue with that proposal

 **Harry** : you're half asleep and I can't even win a verbal repartee

 **Ginny** : yes but u remember the word repartee

 **Ginny** : now get to the stadium

 **Harry** : yes miss

Smiling to herself, Ginny re-fluffs her pillow and goofs off on her phone for a while, dozing a bit here and there until she finally rises, only a quarter of an hour before her alarm is set to sound. The earliness of her wakefulness means Ginny can make herself a rather indulgent fry up, watches another half an episode as she dresses, and is trundling off to the stadium precisely on time to meet up with the Potters and claim their seats before the crowds start flooding the stands.

Ginny pulls the brim of her cap back, blindly dabbing sunblock over her forehead, cheeks, ears – basically any skin that shows. The freckles will come regardless, but she's hoping to avoid a full on boiled lobster impression.

While Lily completes a similar ritual, James rifles through the canvas bag at his feet, sitting back up with twin sets of stripes on both cheeks and what can only be described as a game face setting his jaw. "He's doing alright, health wise, yeah?"

Ginny smiles softly, patting James' arm before unscrewing the cap on her water and taking a small drag. "He's fine. And if I can say so without sounding boastful, the best he's been in quite a while."

After tucking her sunblock tube away, Lily wipes her hands free of the lotion and knits her fingers through the messy curls at the back of James' head. "Ginny's excellent at what she does – and Harry's gone a few months without so much as a sprain. I am the least worried I've been since he first went out for the team."

Before long, James retrieves some concessions from the stand to share between them, and then the game's about to begin, the teams jogging out onto the field and warming up in pairs.

It doesn't take too much effort to find Harry on the field, aside from the bright yellow POTTER across his shoulders, his wild dark hair and well – Ginny's rather become an expert in the body of one Harry James Potter over the last months. Between work and _after work_ she's practically got her PhD in the lanky, muscled, and utterly tempting man currently craning his neck toward the family box.

Ginny presses her fingers to her lips and blows a kiss, short and simple and she can see his grin light up from yards away.

James chuckles while Lily sighs, "He's well and truly gone on you, Ginny."

"As is the way of Potter boys and their ladies."

Ginny fiddles with a hole in the leg of her jeans and smiles, "I'm glad – " Harry sends one final wave and she returns it before turning her attention back to James and Lily, "If you're concerned, it's mutual."

Lily smiles softly while James fidgets in his seat again, "Can I say I'm not surprised and not sound like a prat?"

"You always sound like a prat," Lily snorts, stealing a sip of his drink, "And I will be the first to admit Potter boys have their wiles, but they're a bit inept. It takes a special woman to recognize a diamond in the rough."

Tossing a bit of popcorn into her mouth, Ginny snickers and lowers her sunglasses to watch as Harry trots across the field toward the locker rooms, "More like in the buff."

It just slips out, completely unbidden, and Ginny's not quite sure what part of her brain decided to rebel against her better judgment today. Which means she's just set herself up for a mess of an afternoon depending on her boyfriend's parents' reaction to jokes about seeing their son naked –

But she doesn't have to suffer long, as James snorts so his drink nearly comes out his nose and Lily drops her head back and lets out a barking laugh. Lily's forehead drops to James' shoulder, "That was Remus levels of horrid punny humor."

After James swipes beneath his eyes and rights his glasses, he turns to Ginny, "That's not an insult – Remus has the best worse sense of humor in the country."

Grinning, Ginny raises her brows and drawls, "Perhaps not."

And before the badinage can continue, noisemakers sound around the arena and the sound system blares with the opening fanfare.

* * *

One injury free game and subsequent victory dinner later, Harry finds himself lounging on his couch while Ginny roots through his kitchen cabinets, scoffing to herself. Rounding the corner, she stands at the armrest, hands on hips, "I know you're an athlete and your body is a commodity or whatever – "

"Should that be offensive?"

"But can't you at least stock biscuits for your lovely girlfriend?"

Harry slips his hand behind his head and sighs, "This is why we should just stay at yours."

Ginny disappears back into the kitchen, putters around a bit more with slamming and such, before reemerging with a sliced up apple. "Your bed is much comfier."

Shuffling a bit before sitting up fully, if a bit grumpily, Harry steals a piece of fruit. "Your couch is."

Snuggling closer, Ginny tugs Harry's feet onto her lap and balances the plate on his shins while he crunches into another segment. "We should just combine our best assets and put the rest at the curb."

"That," Ginny says around a mouthful of apple, "Is called moving in together."

A flush rises on Harry's cheeks, spreading to the tips of his ears as he picks at the trim on the couch cushions. "I – "

"Dial it back, love, I'm not inviting myself to move in."

Recovered slightly, Harry manages a small smirk, "Well I hope not because your flat has a much better location and an extra closet."

There's a bit of a challenge in his eyes that Ginny's inclined to meet. "And your lease is up first."

Harry tips his body closer and raises his brows, "Right after the season ends."

A slow blink. "Perfect timing then. I bet George and Ron would give us some boxes and packing materials."

"Sirius owes me."

Their noses brush, Ginny averts a near kiss, lips dragging over Harry's jaw, her breath heavy on his neck, until she brings her mouth to his ear. "I once doused taco in half a bottle of hot sauce and proceeded to devour the entire thing without blinking when Percy warned me it would be too spicy."

He nudges at her cheek, "Sounds about right."

"So I'm not going to surrender this little game of chicken."

Hand coming to cup Ginny's jaw, Harry brings her gaze back to his, "And if I don't want it to be a game?"

Ginny's eyes widen, "You – "

"We've got a couple of months before it would happen – there are more than a few things to arrange but – "

She kisses him, heatedly bringing an end to the sentence before his dithering can continue. "I think it sounds like the beginnings of a good plan."

Another short kiss. "Ron liked you."

"My expertly prepared breakfast didn't hurt."

Ginny huffs a laugh, "Certainly not. I do have more pressing plans to discuss."

Harry hums, inviting her to elaborate.

"I've got a conference – boring weekend booked entirely," Ginny sighs, running her fingers through his hair.

"Still, I'd offer to come – "

"Wood's rapidly fraying nerves would beg another choice."

Grabbing the plate balanced on his legs, Harry slides it onto the table and manages to rather elegantly lift Ginny into his lap, meeting with little to no resistance in the process. Once her knees bracketing his hips, her hands running circuits over his shoulders, Harry nips at her lips once, twice, three times, before he murmurs, "Perhaps considering our imminent separation, we should be sure we know how each other feels. Romantically speaking."

Ginny presses her body closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him, deep and heated, rippling through him like flame licking across his body. She pulls back barely a breath away when she murmurs, "Romantically, eh?"

"Yes," Harry answers, short as he works Ginny's shirt over her torso and tosses it to the floor, "Romantically et cetera et cetera."

"Such beauty," Ginny laughs, "You're a regular poet. By the way – we're on the uncomfortable couch."

Pausing when Ginny tugs his jumper overhead, hair sticking up even more than usual with the static, Harry rises and lifts Ginny with him, "The superior bed is only a few paces away, yeah?"

* * *

Ginny's fairly proud of herself for making it nearly four hours into her first day before she stealthily slips her phone from her pocket and texts Harry.

 **Ginny** : breakfast here doesn't measure up

 **Ginny** : I'm spoiled now

There's a pause, though not much – Harry's got a lighter schedule on Saturday afternoons – before the little grey dots appear along with a soft smile Ginny tries to hide in her slightly burnt tasting coffee.

 **Harry** : can't say I'm surprised

 **Harry** : I'm gifted

 **Harry** : and a gift

 **Ginny** : and not short on self-confidence

The particularly dry presenter the organizers placed first thing on the agenda finishes to polite applause and Ginny moves to top off her coffee, sloshing a healthy bit of cream and spooning sugar into the dark depths. When she's reclaimed her seat, she retrieves her phone from the pocket of her suit jacket and finds a message waiting – disappointingly not from Harry.

 **Wood** : tell your boyfriend patient whatever he has contractual obligations next week please

 **Ginny** : I assume he was of sound mind when he signed

 **Ginny** : so he probably doesn't need me to tell him

 **Wood** : the little arsehole conveniently forgets whenever there's a gala

 **Ginny** : gala. Fancy

 **Wood** : fancy, press related, and definitely a contractual obligation

 **Ginny** : what are you going to do

 **Ginny** : kick him off?

 **Wood** : I just might

 **Ginny** : you like winning too much

 **Wood** : I'll have him doing sprints until his legs fall off

 **Ginny** : again

 **Wood** : god you two are the actual worst

 **Wood** : just talk to him

Ginny makes a note to _call_ Harry after things wrap up for the morning. They've got a lunch break blocked off with optional free food. But if this morning's abysmal offerings are anything to go by, Ginny's decision to hit up the soup and salad chain a block or two over from the hotel. The thought of an overlarge bowl of chicken and wild rice with a warm piece of crusty bread is already making her mouth water. And it's only – _10:04_. Damn.

Despite the occasionally dry nature of the conference, Ginny does manage to glean a few notebook page's worth of notes on new advances and ongoing research and the first half of her day passes fairly quickly. A few minutes past twelve, Ginny manages to slip from the hotel conference rooms, into the shiny tiled lobby, and onto the street before she swipes her thumb across the screen on her mobile and rings Harry.

He picks up a after a few trills, out of breath but otherwise in good spirits. "Alright Gin?"

Ginny pauses at the crosswalk as traffic rolls past in steady droves. "Got a text from Wood."

"Bloody – "

She snorts, "Why didn't you just say something?"

There's a jingle – presumably the keys to Harry's flat – and the sound of the deadbolt sliding home. "I – uh – your trip. It's important."

"And completely unrelated to an event two days after I get back."

He sighs, "I don't want to go?"

Laughing as she worms her way through the crowded sidewalk and into the bakery, Ginny answers, "Sounds more accurate. Plus you do have a contractual obligation for these types of appearances, so far as I can tell."

While Harry hems and haws, Ginny steps up to the automated self check out and places her order, finally taking pity as she drawls, "Besides, I have a fabulous dress I bought on whim that I haven't had reason to wear quite yet."

When Harry speaks, his voice has dropped a few octaves and Ginny can't help the grin that rises on her lips, "I'm not having," she drops her voice as she works her way toward the emptier section of the dining area, "phone sex with you right now."

"Right now, eh?" he laughs, "I was just asking for a description, a word picture if you will, so I can see if the evening will be worth the trouble."

Ginny fills her to go tea – ginger peach – and grabs a handful of napkins and claims a table for herself. "An evening with _me_ is always worth the trouble."

"I agree in most circumstances – save ones that involve handsy donors and unscrupulous busybodies with press passes."

With a low grunt, Ginny takes a sip of her tea slightly too early and earns herself a burned tongue. "I'll allow it for the mo'. Dress is deep dark blue, with an even deeper plunge at the back."

His breath catches audibly as Ginny's order arrives, murmuring her thank you before turning her attention back to Harry. "On that note, I'll leave you to _ruminate_ while I eat my lunch."

"You're a witch."

"So sweet."

* * *

The rest of the conference passes without much of note; Ginny makes some new contacts, reaffirms some old, and updates her to-read list of articles in her field. Still, these things can be draining and she's pretty worn out by the time Harry's picking her up at Heathrow, a stereotype of airport reunions, complete with balloons and a sign.

Despite the gregarious display his smile is soft, nervous, as Ginny wheels her small luggage closer. "Potter."

"Weasley."

Ginny pauses when they're chest-to-chest, rising on her toes and arms winding around his neck before her lips slant over his without a moment of hesitation. They don't pull apart 'til whispers start and Ginny blushes, when she catches sight of a few teenagers trying to subtly capture a photo. "It would seem I've drawn attention to your presence in the airport."

Harry chuckles and shepherds her toward the garage. "The balloons aren't exactly conducive to going incognito."

Knitting her arm through his as they step into the dusky evening, Ginny presses a kiss to his cheek and lingers at his ear for a moment as they pause for a break in the traffic. "We'll have to work on your stealth abilities before our little _soirée_ this week if things will go to plan."

Harry pops the boot open and Ginny lifts her baggage over the lip. "Plan?"

Ginny winks.

* * *

After a thorough evening spent welcoming Ginny home, things go back to normal save the addition of preparations for the gala, namely the at times harrowing attempt to locate a pair of heels to pair with her 'deadly weapon' gown and Harry's grumbling search for an appropriate tuxedo.

Despite occasional moments of despair, they do manage to complete the necessary purchases and rentals in plenty of time and Ginny is saved the struggle of additionally finding a matching clutch when Lily arrives with a veritable menagerie of choices. And while Harry's at practice, they grab lunch and spend the afternoon getting to know each other a bit better.

With all the necessary preparations completed, it doesn't seem long before they're nursing drinks from the luckily open bar and lingering on the outskirts of the dance floor. Harry's done an admirable job of keeping up with a stream of posh donors and journalists, but Ginny can see the put on smile beginning to waver. So when she sees a break in the chatter that coincides with a change in the music drifting from the stage, Ginny grabs Harry's forearm and exclaims, "Oh Harry you promised me a dance," she turns her gaze toward the skeevy woman with too red lips, too ice blond hair, and glasses that accentuate her beady eyes, "It was lovely to meet you – "

"Rita Skeeter – "

The woman seems intent on continuing, but Ginny knows how to make sure she's heard, "This is a favorite song of mine, so I've just _got_ to whisk my boyfriend away to the floor."

They twirl around the floor a few rotations, Harry's palm pressed against her back and holding her close, before he finally murmurs in her ear, "You're a goddess and I love you – have I said lately?"

Ginny lets her fingers rise just past his starched collar and toy with the hair curling just over the edge. "Hmm, probably. Though I wouldn't object to hearing it at least once a day."

As the music slows even further, Harry rests their clasped hands against his chest and brings them to a more secluded section of the room, twirling them gently and rolling his eyes when a few of his teammates send him teasing looks from the sidelines. Harry's not sure if Ginny's noticed until her low laugh sends a warm breath across his neck. "I think I'll recommend extensive and invasive physical exams for the whole team on Monday, just for safety's sake."

Harry hums.

"It'll be necessary," Ginny pauses to glance up at Harry, "To remove my foot from Atterberry's arse."

Her deadpan delivery surprises a snort out of Harry as the band announces a brief hiatus, the crowd applauding lightly before moving in on the bar and hors d'oeuvres tables. Harry and Ginny manage to work their way through the line and find adequate sustenance before Ludo Bagman – the team owner – makes his way over, claps Harry on the back and chastely kisses Ginny's hand. They chat easily in general terms about the club's performance this season and the state of the league in general before he gets that dangerous look of the criminally nosy. "Though I have to say the _real_ question of the evening is how you managed to woo this lovely lady."

While Harry mumbles something about being neighbors and then stalls by taking an overlarge gulp of champagne, Ginny runs her hand up his back and pats his shoulder gently. "Just, saw him 'round the building and couldn't resist a man with good taste in attire."


End file.
